As If By Magic
by gklh910
Summary: A turian lost in his own life. And then, as if by magic, the woman who comes back helps to show him the way. Garrus/FemShep Follows general ME2 storyline with paraphrased dialogue and a few additions of my own.
1. Falling Down, Getting Back Up

**This is sort of an experiment... if I get excited and it hits off, I'll definitely continue. I am as addicted to Mass Effect as I am a fan of... well, fanfictions. I tried to keep it as accurate as possible (Mass Effect websites became my best friends) so if there's any big discrepancies that you notice, feel free to let me know in a polite and helpful fashion.**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

* * *

Garrus swore a juicy turian oath at the console in front of him. He had impressive skill with technology, but the damn machine seemed hell-bent on making sure all of the messages he received were reduced to half-worded, cryptic hieroglyphics. He pulled up his fist and let it slam onto the screen. It would probably only make matters worse, but he'd be damned if he didn't admit that it made him feel better.

The screen became choppy, fuzzed up, and then returned to its normal state. Completely normal state. His messages came in crystal clear. He gaped, and then quickly wiped the expression from his face as Executor Pallin drew nearer. "Something wrong, Vakarian?"

"No. Just fixed my terminal."

Pallin eyed the screen. "That you did. Good job."

"Thank you," Garrus grumbled, as a clear dismissal. The other turian got the idea and left the office.

_The_ office. _His_ office. The office of Garrus Vakarian. And he hated every inch of it. The long, black desk, the bathroom in the corner, the table with the four chairs—who the hell even used that? He certainly didn't.

He hated the four walls.

He hated the lack of gunfire.

And, worst of all, he hated not being with Shepard. This job was boring. Sure, every now and then he got to go out and collar a few two-bit criminals, but truly, he just wanted to be a Spectre. And this was the only way for him to do it. He had enough recognition as helping Shepard, the galactic hero, save the Citadel and all humanity from Sovereign. But it wasn't enough. He needed this job at C-Sec.

The job he hated.

His terminal chimed as he received a new message. He opened it, intrigued by its sender. _Alenko? Why would _he _be messaging me? To brag?_

And then Garrus's world split right open, and he was falling, spiraling, hitting rock bottom.

_Garrus,_

_I know we never really trusted each other. This isn't about that. It's Shepard—she's gone. She's dead. _

He screamed, and didn't stop.

* * *

She opened her eyes to hear screaming, the splatter of erratic gunfire. Well, at least that hadn't changed. Now. _Where am I?_

She sat up and experienced the most severe case of vertigo she'd ever had the misfortune of having.

"Shepard!"

A voice, through the comm unit in the corner of the room—was it a hospital room? Looked more like an operating room, with all the high-tech machines around her. Ugh. Headache. What happened?

"Yeah?" she called back, getting to her feet. There, in the corner: a pistol. She grabbed it and savored the familiar weight in her hand. _Now_ Commander Shepard was on her feet.

"Oh. Good, you've got it," the accented, female voice chimed. She heard gunshots amplified through the comm unit and then a grunt. "Get to the docking bay. As soon as possible."

Shepard sighed. Two seconds back from wherever the hell she'd been and already she was getting orders. _I was going to do that _anyways_!_ But this was no time for complaints. She could hear mechs approaching the room and she took them out cleanly, and swiftly. She sprinted over, collected their thermal clips, and continued out into a long hallway. She persisted in this way for a while, stopping only when she witnessed a few mechs shoot an unarmed man point-blank.

_Someone's tampered with them. A lot. Shit._

She sprinted onward and came out into a long bridge. A black man was taking cover behind the railing, and shot her a shocked look. "What the hell?"

"You and me both, buddy!" she cried, sliding into cover beside him. "What is going on?"

"You're not supposed to be up for a while! But I guess we had no choice!" He popped up to take a couple shots and downed a few mechs before squatting back down.

"I don't care about the schematics right now. Just get me out of here. I've had enough of dying for one day."

"Yes, ma'am." He stood back up and his hands glowed deep blue as he used biotics to take out the last few mechs. They took off at a sprint for the far door.

"Commander Shepard?"

She turned and glared at him with a growl. "What?"

He smiled, a bit ruefully. "It's good to have you back."

* * *

"Shepard? But—I thought you were dead!"

"It's really me, Tali."

"Oh, Keelah. I am so glad you are alive." The quarian hesitated, and Shepard knew her well enough to know that she wanted to say something.

"Spit it out, Tali," she said, good-naturedly.

"Perhaps you should try and find Garrus," she replied meekly. "He—would like to know that you are alive."

Shepard went through the rest of the mission puzzled at that, and realizing that she'd like to know that he was alive as well.

* * *

He popped another shot off, cursing beneath his helmet. _Twenty-three_, he counted dismally. That bridge was his savior; without it, he would have died long ago. He glanced over his shoulder, pulse pounding wildly. It had been exhilarating, dead merc after dead merc after dead merc. _Bam, bam, bam! _All dead. But now . . . along with the pile of heat clips at his side, his confidence was quickly dwindling. He replaced the heat clip in his sniper rifle and took one long, deep breath. _Calm. Focused. To the death. You knew what you were getting into._

And then . . .

_For Shepard._

He set his rifle down onto the ledge to steady it, and pressed his eye to the scope.

_More. At least five of them. Desperate men who were just throwing their lives away for—what? A couple hundred credits?_

_But . . . what the hell was _that_?_

_A woman._

_Dark red armor, a heavy pistol resting casually on her shoulder, the human female sauntered forward like a lion among a throng of her prey. Her eyes traced out a path of movement, and then she was off like a bullet. Her gun fell into her hands and with five calculated shots—_he could hear them: BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM—_the mercs were dead. _

_Her shoulders were shaking—was she afraid? No. She was _laughing_._

He pulled away from the scope, mouth agape.

It was her. He'd heard whispers that she was back, but his heart was too far past broken to even hope anymore. There had been people on the Citadel using her name to sell products. That was probably it. Some idiots had heard that and thought her alive.

But there was no disputing this. Not when she was marching steadily toward him, the shadow of a smirk on her face. The two humans behind her were far less confident, glancing around uneasily as they approached, but then, no one was like _her_.

It seemed, for the first time in two years, that he was really_ breathing_ again. That the oxygen filled his lungs and his heart began to pump blood with vigor.

She took the stairs two at a time. She knew this 'Archangel.' She'd know the armor and sniper rifle anywhere. She felt like a little girl as she sprinted for the second level.

It wasn't until she stood right before him and held her hand out for his that he could say her name—until he could even _think_ her name.

"Garrus?" she said with a crooked smile.

His voice, when he could finally find it, surprised him with its strength. As if he'd been dying to say her name again this whole time.

"Shepard."


	2. A Friend Reborn, A Friendship Forgotten

"No! Garrus!" she screamed as he collapsed. With a furious shriek, she turned, brought up her assault rifle, and let loose a barrage full of warp ammo at the damn gunship. Its shields were gone now.

"Focus your fire! Take that motherfucker_ down_!" she shouted. Jacob and Miranda flanked her and, with their collective, concentrated fire, the ship began to smoke.

"Duck!" Jacob shouted, when its guns came out again.

_Fuck that_. Shepard stepped behind the nearest wall, waited for a break in its fire, and then turned out and started shooting again.

The ship burst into flames and began to spiral toward the ground. With that out of the way, Shepard dropped her gun and sprinted for Garrus's body. She fell to her knees beside him.

He let out a tiny groan.

_He's alive. Oh, thank God. Thank you, thank you, God._

She gingerly supported his head. "Call the Normandy!" she cried. "Get them here _as fast as possible!_ Garrus—hang in there, Garrus! We're gonna get you out of here!"

"He doesn't look too good," Miranda murmured.

"Just _call the fucking Normandy!_"

* * *

Shepard paced in the conference room.

"Dr. Chakwas said he would survive, Commander," Jacob said, trying to assuage her worry.

She just shook her head. Waiting all night by his broken body, pressing the cold length of his hand between hers, hoping, maybe, desperately, her warmth would save him. There was just no shaking the images from her head.

Jacob hesitated, itchingly curious. "You two were close, I take it."

She stopped and looked up. Concern was etched into every plane of her face, the set of her lips, the paleness of her skin, especially evident in her eyes, those deep, dark pools of pansy blue. He was about to apologize and take it back when she simply said, "Yes. We were. We are." Her voice came out as a strangled sigh.

The doors opened and Shepard whirled around.

Garrus walked in with half a smirk. It died as he caught sight of her expression. The air in the room was thick with her anxiety.

"Tough son of a bitch," Jacob muttered. "Didn't think he'd be up this quick."

Shepard just exhaled, a breath full of relief. "Garrus," she sighed.

"Shepard. Good to see you, too. Nobody would tell me—how bad is it, really?" He turned his face to the side so she could see the scars there.

She smirked, floating on a cloud of pinkish joy. "Well, Garrus, you've always been ugly. Just slap some face-paint on there and nobody'll notice."

He barked out a laugh, and then groaned. "Oh, don't make me laugh. My face is barely holding together as it is."

And as she snickered at him, and Garrus grinned toothily back, and Jacob stared at both of them in confusion . . . Shepard felt herself becoming _alive_ again. The Commander was _back_.

* * *

"_I wish Shepard were here."_

Shepard smiled inside of her helmet at the words, in that familiar half-synthesized, accented voice. She missed her favorite quarian, and judging from her recording, that quarian missed her, too. "Let's move, boys. She won't hold out forever in there."

They sprinted through the searing Haestrom sun, sliding into shade to keep their shields from frying.

An injured male quarian greeted them with a grim salutation. "I'm going to die."

"Not if I can help it," Shepard countered. She used her omni-tool to give him all the medi-gel she could spare. He sighed immediately in relief and she glanced over the wall they were taking cover behind. Geth swarmed a very long area between her team and the room their target was locked inside.

"My name is Kal Reeger. You must help Tali'Zorah. She must survive."

"Trust me: we're on it. You _stay here_," she ordered, getting to her feet. "I don't want you dying on me."

"I'll cover you as you go."

"No, you will hide behind this wall no matter how cowardly you feel, because if you die I will be very, very angry, and I will piss on your grave," she added, stealing the phrase from a nice krogan she'd once met.

Taken aback by her assertiveness, Kal let himself slide down to the ground. In all honesty, he wasn't too sure he _could_ cover her, even with her medi-gel. "Affirmative, Shepard. Save her. Save Tali. Keelah se'lai."

Satisfied, Shepard turned back to the battlefield and mentally mapped it all out. In a few, calculating moments, she'd planned out their course of action. "Grunt, over behind that pile of mako tires. It's closer so you can use your shotgun. Thane, you take the left side and take cover behind those barricades."

"And you, Shepard?" the big krogan grumbled, his voice excited on the eve of battle.

She pointed out a path half-hidden by rock that ran along the main field. "I know I'll find a good vantage point up there. You two focus on not getting shot and staying out of the sun. If you can pull a few rounds off, be my guest. Let's move!"

They all took their respective spots. Thane slid easily into place behind the barricades as Grunt roared a guttural battle cry and moved toward the tires. She stole through the tens of feet of open field she had to cross. Her shields beeped frantically as the sun rendered them useless until she slipped into cover behind a large rock. Gasping for breath, she let her shields regenerate before continuing. She crept as close to the rock as she could manage. She found a break in the stone and rested her sniper rifle on the open ledge.

Shepard checked first on her squad: Thane had his rifle out, knocking geth troopers down left and right. Grunt's shotgun was taking out just as many, the resounding sound of gunshots pierced occasionally by one of his loud battle roars.

She swung her scope to the other side of the field and let her instincts take over. _Three troopers, one prime. _

Bam bam bam!

She switched to a particle beam she'd taken from the collectors on Horizon and directed it at the prime. There was a deep buzzing sound as the particle beam shot into its back and immediately crippled its over-shields. Shepard took the opportunity to return to her sniper rifle and hit it directly in the head, downing it permanently.

_Move._

She sprinted forward, settling behind a pillar. There was a low wall between the main battle field and a large geth armature. She ducked her head out and took aim with her particle beam. A few seconds of direct shooting lowered its shields. She took out all the remaining geth troopers and then flipped around the corner with her assault rifle in hand. She let loose a long barrage of bullets and the armature fell in a cloud of dust.

"Thane, Grunt," she called through the communication link in her helmet. "How many?"

"All dispatched, Shepard," came Thane's calm response.

_I swear, that man couldn't be surprised by a flying turd._

"Good. Then meet me up here at the far end. I'm gonna open the door."

They were there in moments, looking sweaty but unharmed.

"I have to admit, Shepard, this sun is . . . unpleasant," Thane sighed dryly. "The aridity, wonderful. The heat, horrible."

Grunt just laughed. "You small fleshy creatures can't handle many things, can you?"

"Shut it, Grunt," Shepard said over her shoulder, typing away at the door controls until they opened with a loud hiss. "How many times do I have to warn you about those snide 'fleshy-creatures' remarks?"

Shepard and her squad moved with relief into the room. It was cooler in here, and she was able to pry her helmet off and wipe the sweat from her forehead.

"Shepard, I can't believe you made it." Tali was at the very far end of the room, tapping anxiously at a terminal. "Let me just finish this download."

While her squad ambled around the room, Shepard checked the heat clips in her gun.

Tali finished and turned. "I can't believe it. You never fail to impress me, Shepard." She grabbed the commander into a tight embrace.

"I've missed you, Tali."

"And I you. How is Kal?"

"Surviving. Barely," Grunt added.

Shepard sent him a death glare.

"I'm fine, Tali'Zorah," came Kal's voice from the doorway. Everyone turned to see him come limping into the room. "Your Shepard has given me enough medical help to survive until help arrives."

Tali hesitated before answering. She looked up at Shepard. "You wanted my help earlier, but I had this mission to fulfill. Now that I am through with it . . . would you still welcome me on your ship?"

"That's why I'm here," she said with a grin.

"Good." She turned back to Kal. "I will not be returning with you, then. I will give you the information to take back to the Admiralty Board."

"You are sure of this?"

"Completely."

Kal sighed, but smiled. "Then so be it, Tali. I will inform the Board of your decision. It was an honor serving with you."

"I feel the same way." She transferred the information to his omni-tool and then turned to Shepard. "Ready?"

Shepard made a show of wiping the sweat from her forehead. "Oh, yeah."

* * *

"It is an honor having you on our ship, Tali," Jacob said sincerely.

Tali lifted her head with dignity. "I am here for Shepard," she declared. "_Not_ for Cerberus."

"Fine enough," he agreed. "As long as you are here."

"I shall be down in engineering, Shepard, if _you_ shall want to see me."

Shepard just smiled as her friend went sashaying away with poise.

* * *

"We've got to go get, ah . . ." Shepard paused, glancing down at the datapad in her hands. "'The Convict,'" she read. She looked back up with a determined look in her eyes. "Jacob, Miranda, suit up. We're headed for the Purgatory." Another pause. "What a grim name," she added with a disapproving expression.

"It _is_ a prison ship, Commander," Miranda said with a wide smile as she checked the heat clips in her pistol. She loved the hustle and bustle of these little missions.

Garrus grunted from where he sat at the mess hall table. With another little grumble, he got to his feet and stomped off for the main battery.

Miranda raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Shepard, is he okay?"

The Commander watched him go with an unfathomable expression. "I'll handle it. Let's move out, kids. We've got us a psycho to collect."

With an affectionate chuckle, Jacob gestured for her to lead the way. And Shepard did, as Shepard always does.

* * *

"Fuck. I knew that bastard was up to something. Looks like we'll just have to _shoot_ our way out of here!"

"I don't like the cheeriness in your voice, Shepard," Jacob muttered, palming his shotgun and making a face. "Seems to me you _enjoy_ these battles for our lives."

"Quiet, Jacob, Mommy's working," Shepard cooed mockingly, downing four mechs and a Blue Suns mercenary with a wave of biotic power.

He gaped. Not even Miranda had that sort of strength. And, judging from the expression on the Cerberus Operative's face, she knew it.

"Let's grab Jack and get the hell out of Dodge," Shepard called, already running for the door.

Miranda just sighed. "You never can tell, with Shepard, can you?"

"Nope. That's why I like her so much."

They sprinted after her down the hall, proceeding through the quickly deteriorating building with caution. They could see the evidence of Jack's displeasure: holes blasted through walls, mechs completely destroyed, Blue Suns operatives incapacitated.

"Jesus Christ," Shepard breathed out between her teeth. "This Jack is one crazy motherfucker."

"Who taught you to curse like that, Shepard?" Jacob teased.

She shot him a dirty look.

They found Jack waiting near the exit, hesitating in fury as she identified the Cerberus logo on their ship.

"Jack," Shepard said, authority thick in her voice. "You can come with us, or we can shoot you. You pick. Either way," she added, her lips curving up into a devilish smile. "I'll enjoy it."

Jack snarled. "I bet you're just a pussy with big words." She glanced furiously at the ship, knowing it was her only way out.

"Want to know a secret, Jack?"

She turned back to Shepard with a sneer.

The Commander winked and her voice fell to a dramatic whisper. "You're going to end up coming with us."

The wild woman slammed her fists angrily against the window, but gritted her teeth and nodded. "Fine. I'll go with you. But touch me and I'll break your back with a snap of my fingers," she threatened violently.

Shepard grinned. "I like her already."

* * *

**A/N... again:  
Hope you're enjoying it so far. I've got a bunch more that I've already written, but I'm tweaking, which is why I'm so hesitant to upload them all at once. Plus I'm also working on the other story... but I love writing this one, haha. **


	3. Where Are We Running?

Shepard chatted Sidonis up, feeling sweat begin to form on the back of her neck.

_Now, Shepard._

She stepped quickly to the right, and Sidonis's head shot up in surprise. He watched the bullet coming for him, soaring brilliantly through the air, and his heart sank as it penetrated his skull and his body collapsed to the floor.

Shepard was already gone.

She met Garrus at the docking bay and took in his sadly satisfied expression.

"Not happy with your work?" she prodded lightly. She'd anticipated how delicate his psyche might be after taking Sidonis out. They'd been right as rain before, you know, she _died_, but this Garrus was significantly different than the one before. Still the same one she fought beside, and maybe even loved, but . . . more jaded.

He was thinking along the same lines. Shepard pre-death had been swift, hot-headed, impulsive. This Shepard was hesitant. Though he'd never admit it to her, she seemed _softer._

He sighed a small chuckle. That was his only answer. Dramatic and short.

"I dunno how I feel about you assassinating him like that," she admitted, the confession an abrupt and unexpected glimpse into that mind of hers.

He looked at her in surprise. _Definitely _softer. "But, it was _you_ that taught me that killing was the best solution, Shepard. Remember Dr. Saleon?"

Shepard looked away, feeling the sting of truth. He was right. She'd killed Dr. Saleon herself. She'd told him to consider it a _lesson. _How different she felt now, the reborn Commander, the woman who had bested death.

"You don't regret going through with this at all?"

The look he gave her was almost crazed. "What would you do, Shepard? Let ten innocent men lie in unmarked graves? Who is going to bring him to justice if not me? What would _you_ do if someone betrayed you?"

Shepard looked down at her hands and shook her head. "I wouldn't let it change me."

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm not you."

She met his eyes, shocking him with her gaze, the depth of her emotions there. "It's not you, either." She brushed past him into the Normandy, having struggled to find anything else to say, and having decided it was impossible.

Garrus watched her walk away with a stone settling in his heart. What happened to them?

* * *

Shepard scooted her way toward the elevator, an ice cold bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy chilling her hand as she went.

"Oh, Commander Shepard?"

She turned, a little impatiently. "What's up, Kelly?" She wanted to be drunk right now.

Kelly looked a little guilty. "Sorry I'm keeping you, Commander."

"Oh, God." Shepard shook her head and bit her tongue to punish herself. "I'm sorry, Kelly. It's been . . . a bit of a tough day."

The yeoman smiled understandingly. "For Garrus, too. He's been pacing angrily in the battery. Perhaps you should speak with him? He seems most impatient with something."

Shepard was watching beads of condensation roll down the white bottle, salivating. She glanced back up at Kelly with a thankful expression. "Thanks, Kelly. I'll look into it. Honestly, what would I do without you?"

Kelly was still preening as the Commander stepped into the elevator.

Shepard poured another glass and giggled, choking as she gulped down the brandy. She'd needed this. She couldn't even remember the troubling undertones of the day anymore. Chakwas chuckled across from her.

"A toast!" Shepard announced, holding up her glass and sloshing alcohol down the sides of it. "To being happily drunk!"

"Now _that _I will toast to!" Chakwas slurred, and they took long drinks.

Shepard got to her feet and set her glass down, letting her equilibrium adjust as the room seemed to spin. _Just tipsy. That's all. You got this, Shepard._

She gave the doctor a generous hug. "Thanks, Doc. I needed this." Images of Sidonis's dead body swam into her mind, and she anxiously batted them away.

"Thank _you_ for the brandy, Commander. I'll sleep like a baby tonight." As Dr. Chakwas stumbled her way toward one of the medical cots, Shepard managed to leave the medical bay.

She crept as silently as possible through the deserted mess hall. She nearly tripped and giggled at herself—she had to stuff her fist into her mouth to keep quiet.

_Fuck, this is hard. Oh, alcohol—the bane of my existence. Besides, you know, reapers and collectors and the Illusive Man and Garrus and any sexual fantasies I may have had of him . . . wait, what? Oh, fuck, I'm so drunk right now._

She stopped once she got to the elevator to collect herself. Hopefully everyone was deeply asleep. She would be mortified if somebody found her—

"Shepard?"

She closed her eyes. Bust-ed.

"Hey, Thane," she said, turning as slowly and normally as she could. _Oh, Lord._

He was shirtless, wearing only a loose set of white pants. Her eyes seemed unwilling to cooperate with her mind as they hungrily took in the planes of his chest. Good God.

"Are you all right?" he asked in his raspy sweet voice, cocking his head in concern.

"Yesss," she murmured, her hands hunting along the wall behind her until they waved past the door's sensors and they opened for her. "I was just, ah, going up to my room. To sleep. I'm tired, see?" She pointed obnoxiously at the nonexistent bags under her bloodshot eyes. "_So_ tired. Can barely stand."

"Do you need assistance?" he insisted, stepping forward. "I can help you to your quarters." Was she imagining the amusement in his voice? Surely it was some odd miscommunication between their species or something.

Before she could protest, he was at her side and sweeping her up into his arms. The elevator doors closed behind him, and they were moving.

She sighed and let her head loll back over his arm. "Thane," she groaned. "I am drunk."

"I think I noticed that," he admitted. "Quite drunk, if I might say so without causing offense."

"Nope, I'm definitely quite drunk."

He eyed her with some unfathomable emotion in his eyes.

"I'm not having sex with you," she said in a garbled sigh.

"I wouldn't dream of it, siha," he said, as if offended.

"Good." She patted his face in appreciation as he stepped out of the elevator and toward her cabin. The door opened with a hiss and the drell carried her in.

It wasn't until much later, when she was lying cozy and alone in her bed, and the room had stopped spinning, that she realized what an odd situation it had been. She fell asleep giggling.

* * *

"Shepard?"

"Oh. Hey, Garrus." Shepard took a long sip of her black coffee, ignoring how it was scorching the back of her throat in hopes of the hot liquid chasing her hangover away. Maybe no one would notice if she just slinked her way back to her cabin and curled up in a ball of useless mess today.

"Shepard? You listening to me?" A big turian hand was waving in front of her face.

She batted it away with a scowl. "No. I am not."

Garrus just sighed from his seat at the mess hall table. Giving her a pointed glare, he downed a shot of some bright blue dextro-liquor.

"Isn't it a little early to be tossing down drinks?" She raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. She found that she liked the sound. It was light and a little dusty, but smooth. Husky. Like the fluttering of an eagle's wings.

_Okay. What am I on right now? An eagle's wings? Jesus, Shepard._

"Early perhaps by human standards. Though, you're still not listening to me, are you?"

"I'm sorry," she groaned, taking a seat across from him. "I have a headache." She kept her gaze downward.

"Why won't you look at me?"

"Too busy inspecting your hands. You could be trying to assassinate me. I'd like to at least know if you're about to pull a shank."

His fingers twitched around the empty shot glass. "Your eyes are bloodshot, aren't they?"

She rolled her eyes, knowing it was too late to deny it. He was studying her with a pensive air, leaning in close to her face. "Your hair smells of alcohol."

"Brandy," she clarified bitterly.

"You're hungover, Shepard!"

She winced at the volume of his voice. "God. Keep it down. Yes, I am. Go be annoying somewhere else."

He laughed again. "I guess even you need to let loose every now and then." He traced the rim of his glass with the tip of a talon.

It took her a long while to pull her gaze from his finger. Pegging him with a heavy look, she snapped, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He held up his hands in defense. "I'm just saying that you're so uptight all the time. It's good to hear you had some fun."

"I have loads of fun!" she protested angrily.

"Yeah, Commander Shepard is the _epitome_ of 'fun.'"

"Oh, fuck you, Garrus."

He sniggered and leaned back in his chair, eyes glinting playfully. "So who poured the drinks?"

Shepard stuck her tongue out at him, trying to sniff her hair as discreetly as possible. _I knew I should've showered before coming down here. _"Dr. Chakwas, you big snoop."

"Oh, so it wasn't a romantic date, then."

"Nope. Thane was busy that night."

Garrus froze where he sat, his entire body seeming to go instantly rigid. All of the good humor drained from his face. His mandibles pulled back against his teeth and the breath he let out seemed very much like a growl.

Shepard leaned back in caution. "Garrus? It was just a joke, buddy. Calm down. Uh. Please."

The turian shook his head as if to clear his mind and his body relaxed, mandibles fluttering back to their normal position. "I, ah . . . Sorry, Shepard," he muttered, shrugging his shoulders to ease them. He sighed loudly and shook his head. "I guess I was kind of hoping I'd find you here," he admitted.

"Oh?" She set her glass down and shoved it aside, indicating that he had her full attention.

He swallowed, wondering why his throat was suddenly so dry. He looked down at his hands.

_Just spit it out, Vakarian. Come on, don't be stupid. You're her closest friend, remember?_

He thought back to that day, their conversation coming easily to his mind, as he'd repeated it over and over again after her death in a desperate attempt to keep her alive with him. . . .

She laughs, punching me playfully on the arm. With a scowl, I catch her wrist and pin it down to the table. She chuckles. "Want to spar, Vakarian?" she challenges with a leer. I _do_ want to spar—a lot. Nothing gets me more cheerful or sexually frustrated than a good spar with Shepard. But, unthinkingly, I touch the wound on my chest and her sharp eyes catch the movement. Stupid, stupid. I should've just said yes, but now she's glaring at me. "You _are_ more injured than you let on!" she accuses wildly. She rips her wrist from my hold and before I can attempt to stop her or even protest she's attacking the buckles and zippers of my armor and in seconds I'm bare-chested in front of her. She inhales a pained gasp. Her fingers, slightly trembling, brush across the tender skin of the wound. I wince and she sighs. "You should have told me, Garrus. I would have treated you better." I wink at her, a bit weakly. "That's why I didn't. I can fight, Shepard. Don't baby me." She's shaking her head, those pansy eyes dark with disappointment—in me—in herself. "I'm sorry," she breathes. She leans a bit closer—we're sitting on the floor of her quarters on the old Normandy. She smells phenomenal. She runs her fingertips gently down my chest as if mapping out the area of the injury, as if committing it to memory. I grab her hand to stop her. "Don't worry about it," I insist quietly, getting the impression that this moment is more important than I noticed it to be. "Please, Shepard. It's fine." I'd gotten the wound on Virmire. I hadn't wanted to say anything, because . . . well, she'd lost Williams there already. Who am I to complain about a little cut when Williams is dead? But Shepard is still leaning forward, and she slowly, softly, tenderly presses her forehead to mine. I'm struggling to control my breathing, and it seems she is, too. She brings a hand up and cups the side of my face. "Garrus," she whispers with a little smile. "You're my best friend. You know that, right?" I blink rapidly for a moment, digesting that. I close my eyes and cover her hand with mind, feeling the tiny little fingers beneath my palm. "You are mine, too, Shepard."

Shepard cleared her throat. "Garrus? You in there?"

The turian gave her a languid smile. "Sorry, Shepard. Lost in thought."

"What did you want to talk about?"

_Damn. _"I, ah, just wanted to tell you that . . . ah, that Thanix Cannon you acquired for the ship installed perfectly," he finished quickly.

"Oh." Once again, only this time completely different in its inflection. Almost disappointed. "Well," she said, getting to her feet with a stretch. "I'd better be going. I have a hangover to nurse." She smiled and he gave her the laugh that she wanted. With a nod, she cleaned up her glass and started to leave. He watched her go, and right before she turned the corner, she glanced over her shoulder and gave him a long, heavy look. It was familiar, that look, but he couldn't quite place it.

And then she was gone.

He sighed and stared into his empty glass. What had happened, indeed?


	4. Nothing Like A Few Angry Krogan

Garrus worked until he couldn't anymore, until the sight of numbers and that orange screen made him sick. His eyes were starting to glaze over when he finally pushed himself away and left the main battery.

_A drink. Ah, that sounds delightful._

He traipsed his way to the mess hall and poured himself a nice, tall glass of his favorite dextro liquor: it tasted just like memories of Palaven. As much as the thought of the planet haunted him, it was sometimes nice to have something remind him of "home," or the only place that somewhat resembled that notion.

_Not true. The Normandy is my home_, he reasoned. And then he frowned, putting the bottle away and cupping his glass. _No, that's not right._ He thought about it, taking sips of his drink, leaning back against the counter. And then, _Oh, man. It's Shepard! It's all Shepard. Shepard is my home. _

_It's too early for this kind of thing_, he decided.

"Hello, Garrus," came a familiar voice.

He looked up and watched Thane come into the mess hall and take a seat at the table. The drell sort of . . . _folded_ himself into a sitting position, neatly placing his hands on the table and taking Garrus in with those big, black eyes.

"Oh. Hello."

Thane watched the turian pour himself another glass. "Is something troubling you?" he asked gently.

Garrus gave him an almost crazy-sounding laugh. "No. I'm just fine. Though, from the way I'm tossing these back, I don't blame you for asking." He turned around and faced Thane again. "Have you seen Shepard?"

The drell shook his head. "She is on another mission. She wishes to find a cure for Grunt's illness on Tuchanka."

Garrus gaped at him. _Another_ mission he was missing out on? What the hell was Shepard all about? He'd assumed with . . . well, with their nice, playful talk yesterday that she would enlist his help on the next mission. He gritted his teeth—which made an awful scraping noise, as his teeth are scary and sharp—and decided he'd talk with her as soon as she got back and get to the bottom of this.

"Ah, Garrus? Are you all right?"

"Fine," he snapped, slamming his glass down and heading back toward the main battery. Numbers and the color orange were way better than this crap.

"I am here to talk if you wish!" Thane called after him.

"Shove it up your ass, drell. And don't _touch_ her," Garrus added sullenly, slinking into the main battery and locking the doors shut behind him.

* * *

Grunt did a few victory laps, brandishing his shotgun above his head like a torch. Tali giggled a sweet little feminine laugh and Shepard clapped her on the back.

"You did good today, Tali. Couldn't have done it without you. Hell, we could've died today. Some puberty ritual _this_ is," Shepard added in a grumble. "We could've just dragged him to Omega for a few good dances."

Tali laughed again, glancing at the dead thresher maw beside them. "Indeed. A quarian's pilgrimage seems like nothing to this."

"That thresher maw would've gotten me at the end if it wasn't for your combat drone," Shepard admitted bashfully.

The quarian inclined her head in pride. "Nobody's faster than Chiktikka vas Paus."

"Thank you, Shepard!" Grunt roared from all the way across the battlefield. "I have a clan! I have a name!" He turned and began to rush toward her to sweep her up into a hug before he froze. "Shepard, run!"

Moving on instinct, Shepard threw Tali to the right, using the momentum to fling herself to the left. The quarian was sent sliding into the dust, while Shepard was kicked roughly in the knees from behind. Deep, krogan laughter and many sets of footsteps alerted them to a huge unhappy presence behind them. Tali scrambled to her feet and began to book it for Grunt.

Shepard tumbled backward and there was the sound of metal groaning and an exploding pain in her side. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she turned and landed a good punch in the krogan's face. As he stumbled away from her, she sprinted away toward her squad.

"Shepard, you're bleeding!" Tali gasped as she slid into cover beside her. Grunt was covering them as Tali took a look at Shepard's wound.

"Never mind that for now," she said through gritted teeth, _not_ excited for the healing process for this one. "Just take these guys out. You're almost more trouble than you're worth, Grunt," she joked, her humor somewhat dampened by the slight wheeze in her voice.

Grunt roared out in laughter. "You don't mean that, Shepard. But I appreciate the effort."

Even the famous Commander Shepard and her squad had a hard time taking out ten angry krogan, but eventually the last big body dropped into the dust. Their shuttle back to Tuchanka finally arrived, and Tali supported Shepard as they moved through the vicious, dusty wind for the what had to be the most beautiful shuttle they'd ever taken.

* * *

"We need to hurry, Grunt," Tali insisted sharply, her voice high with worry.

"I'm moving as fast as I can, little quarian," Grunt rumbled. "Do _you_ want to carry her?"

"Nobody's _carrying_ anybody!" Shepard coughed from his arms. She could feel herself bleeding profusely inside of her armor and winced as Grunt's big steps jostled the bent metal further into her skin. "Just . . . oh, fuck it, just get me to Chakwas before I die. Please," she added, feeling a swell of affection for the big krogan carrying her. It would have been harder for any other of her crewmates to move her. Once they got into the Normandy, Grunt moved with a newfound speed. The elevator ride was heartbreakingly slow, but they finally managed to make it to the third level of the ship. Once the doors opened and Grunt took a step out, Shepard could hear the sound of a chair being pushed back from the mess table as somebody got to his feet.

"Shepard? Is that you?"

_Oh, God. _"Get me to the med bay, stat!" she ordered, and Grunt snorted.

"I am moving as quickly as possible, Shepard. You wanna walk there?"

"Oh, ha _ha_."

"Shepard? Oh, spirits." Garrus was there already, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Please don't say anything," she begged as she was whisked into the med bay and lowered onto one of the little cots.

Dr. Chakwas was all business, having gotten a heads-up from Tali. She shot Grunt a pointed look, and with a nod the krogan left. "Don't die, Shepard," he called from the door. "Hey, turian," he muttered to Garrus, who was standing frozen in the doorway.

The room was already full with the smell of her blood. He couldn't pull his eyes from the sight of her, her eyes closed tightly shut, her teeth bared as she pulled ragged breaths through them. Dr. Chakwas methodically pulled apart Shepard's armor, just as she'd done for Garrus when he'd been injured on Omega. When she lifted her head to give him the same glare she'd given Grunt, she paused. The expression on his face was like nothing she'd seen before. No, that wasn't right. She'd seen it once before. She looked down.

_Shepard_. Shepard had worn the same look when she'd brought Garrus in. There was something with the two of them. Some connection.

With a sigh, Dr. Chakwas gestured toward a nearby seat. "Sit. Silently," she added.

Garrus nodded frantically, and took the offered seat. He watched as Chakwas stripped the plates of armor and slowly exposed the large wound on Shepard's side. She was wearing a white undershirt, the side of it completely soaked with her blood. Chakwas sliced the shirt in half with a pair of medical scissors and peeled the thin material gingerly from Shepard's torso.

Garrus inhaled a pained gasp. The gash ran from just below her underarm to her navel, a long, jagged tear that was still streaming blood.

Dr. Chakwas worked calmly, only the sweat beading on her forehead exposing her worry. Most of her effort went into cleaning the wound. Bits of dust had coated the gash in a layer of grime from Tuchanka's dirty atmosphere. She managed to use medi-gel to stop the bleeding and at least make the wound smaller. From there it was good old sutures. Chakwas glanced up and down her body for any other injures and shook her head. God in heaven, her leg was broken, too. Shepard never failed to surprise. Any other human would have perished.

But not Shepard.

Garrus was absolutely pale in the corner, his talons digging into his thighs as he watched. Shepard had long fallen asleep, embracing the white comfort of morphine.

Dr. Chakwas finally pulled away and wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. "This is the most that I can do. The rest . . . is up to Shepard." She looked up and met the turian's wild gaze. "She will survive, though. She is strong."

Garrus just nodded. He got to his feet and drifted tentatively toward the cot.

Shepard's fiery hair clung to her face with sweat, her eyelids trembling every now and then in her dreams. Garrus brought up his hand and, ever so gently, touched her cheek with his palm. He gasped as she leaned into his touch. She grabbed his arm and clutched it to her. When he looked up at Dr. Chakwas in frantic worry, she gave him a tired smile and nodded down at the commander's sleeping body.

"Stay. She'll need you. I'm off to get some sleep. She will be fine."

She glanced over her shoulder just as she was leaving to watch the turian settle into his seat again. His arm was resting on the cot beside Shepard, and she was cuddling it to tightly to her body. He raised a hand and tenderly brushed the hair out of her face.

Knowing that she couldn't have left the commander in better hands, Dr. Chakwas slept easily and deeply that night.


	5. Would You Please Just Sit Still

**Author's Note:  
I'm terribly, terribly sorry that it's been so long since I've uploaded chapters to either story. I actually have a couple chapters written already, waiting to be published. School has started, a year-and-a-half long relationship has ended, and I'm working my hands to the bone to get my butt into college so there is a lot of stress going on.**

**I feel awful for not adding for so long! Please forgive me and, most importantly, enjoy!**

* * *

Garrus hadn't dared to move until she had released his arm. He got to his feet and stretched his cramped muscles. He spotted the sink in the corner of the med bay and relished the feel of cool water on his face. When he looked up into the mirror above the sink, he caught the look on his face.

_This was it. This look, this expression._

He thought back to the day before: Shepard's face as she left him at the mess table. And even longer before that, Shepard as she stood above his injured body. Thoughts half lost with morphine and sleep, dizzy, fuzzy memories came flooding back. Shepard never leaving his side, Shepard gently touching his face.

Just as he had done for her.

Concern. Horror. _That_ was why she was leaving him behind all the time!

"Garrus?" The croaky, quiet voice roused him from his thoughts.

He quickly turned to see his favorite smile in the world shining at him, a little faulty, a little blood-smeared, but shining through nonetheless. He moved back to her with a smile to match. "Hey. How do you feel?" His voice was just as scratchy from its lack of use.

She sighed and tried to sit up. With a gasp, she felt the pain in her side explode like fireworks.

"Don't!" he pleaded, and rushed forward to help her lie back down. "Spirits, Shepard, just sit still for one day. Think you can do that?"

She laughed loudly. "Nope." She sighed, her smile fading. "How bad is it?"

The way that his face tightened was certainly not reassuring. "You will heal."

"Great."

"What happened?"

She blew air out between her lips and sighed. Her eyes flickered back and forth on the ceiling as she pictured the scene. "We were going through Grunt's rite of passage. We had to battle off a bunch of stuff. We kicked ass," she added with a grin. Garrus made a face and she continued. "We even killed the big thresher maw. The last time that had been done was Wrex's rite of passage. Can you believe it?"

The delight in her voice lured a laugh from him before he could stop it. "Go on," he prompted.

"But then . . . there was this krogan named Gatatog Uvenk and his krantt that were unhappy that Grunt was there. They caught us off guard. They caught . . . they caught _me_ off guard. God damn it." She was gritting her teeth in anger. "They came up behind us. Grunt was laughing and running around . . . Tali and I were just talking, waiting to get back inside . . . he came up behind me and . . . and . . ." Her voice grew breathy as her chest began to heave.

"You're okay. You're all right," he murmured soothingly, gently stroking the side of her face.

She closed her eyes in a pained expression. "I was so scared, Garrus," she breathed, her voice throaty and vulnerable. "I was scared they were going to kill me and I would . . . I wouldn't be there for Tali and Grunt and they would kill them too. I was scared I would lose _everything again._"

"Shepard," he whispered, and he pressed her hand gently between his own.

His touch seemed to calm her. She opened her eyes again and her breathing eased. "He had this wicked dagger. Cut through my armor and everything. I killed them all, and I wanted to go back and get it, but Tali yelled at me." She smiled a little.

"Probably good of her," Garrus reasoned, eyeing the heaps of gauze and bandages that were matted to her side. "I dunno how much longer you could've lasted."

"Oh, I'm a strong old horse." But her expression was appropriately grim.

The door shick'ed open and they both turned to see Kelly come in with a tray of food and a smile. "Hello, Commander, Garrus. I brought you guys some food. You've been in here awhile."

"Thanks, Kelly," Shepard replied with a smile. While Garrus was distracted, she heaved herself upward, biting her lip to keep from making any noise.

When he turned back, she was in an upright position, her back resting against the wall. He gave her a look that clearly said that they would be having words later.

"I brought both human and dextro food for you!" Kelly chimed, oblivious. "Commander Shepard, I was of the impression that you enjoyed coffee and sweet food, so I brought you a mug of coffee and some cheesecake that Gardner was _more_ than happy to make you. And Garrus, I brought you some Palaven fruits that were . . . er, a little harder to acquire," she admitted bashfully.

"That's amazing," he breathed, taking the offered plate in bewilderment. "How'd you get these?"

"Oh, you know," she said with a blush and a wave of her hand. "Cerberus has some good connections."

"Thank you so much, Kelly," Shepard sighed, taking a good whiff of coffee. "You have no idea how much I needed this."

Positively shining with pleasure, Kelly smiled. "I hope you're healing well, Commander."

"Getting better every second. On a diet of coffee and cheesecake, I'll heal by leaps and bounds," she joked, and Kelly giggled.

"Well, I'd better get back up to my post. Someone's got to keep everyone in line while you're laid up. Seeya, Commander!"

"Bye, Kelly."

Shepard eyed Garrus's plate as Kelly left. She'd given him an assortment of odd looking fruits. There were blue, almost heart shaped berries that were the size of her fist, along with even bigger, bright yellow fruits with orange-like peels. He swiped up a small acorn-like berry and popped it into his mouth. She watched him chew. A low, rolling sound started to come from his throat.

"Are you purring, Garrus?"

He gave her a lazily frustrated look and swallowed. "It's a turian thing," he explained.

"It's a cat thing," she teased, taking a bite of her cheesecake and enjoying the thickly sweet taste. "Ah, Kelly's a godsend."

"How are you feeling?"

"All right. It stings. I should be better by tomorrow." She sighed and set down her plate. "I hate being carried in here like a baby."

"I know you do. It happened to me, too, you know."

Shepard winced. "I know all too well."

"You sat by me the whole time—didn't you?"

She turned and looked him straight in the eye, a surprisingly rare occurrence. Those deep blue eyes, wide open and full of some emotion. "I did. I . . . was surprised. The violent worry that consumed me . . . it shocked me," she confessed quietly, never taking her eyes from his.

Garrus swallowed. "I felt it, too. I had no idea."

Shepard smiled. "At least it's all over with, right?" As if to prove her point, she moved her plate out of the way and swung her legs over the side of the cot.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, getting to his feet.

Before he could stop her, she pushed herself off of the table and was standing before him in seconds. She grinned. "See? All better."

He gave her a deeply skeptical look, and when her smile faltered just the tiniest bit, he sighed. "Come on, Shepard, seriously. Give yourself a break. Your body can't keep up with your nerve."

She snorted, but sat back down. "Fine. But I don't want to lie down anymore." Her hands rested on the cot, but she didn't move to help herself back up. Instead, she bit her lip.

"What is it now, Shepard?"

"I, ah . . . I have to use the restroom," she admitted with an embarrassed grimace. "I can make it, it'll just be slow going."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll take you."

She smiled, feeling both relieved and a little nervous. "Thanks."

Garrus bent his knees and easily swept her up into his arms.

She made a face. "No. You can just walk beside me. I didn't mean _carry_ me."

"Shut up, Shepard, I'm carrying you. Look, I'm already walking out of the med bay."

"Pooh."

They passed a few crewmates on the way to the restroom, who all offered relieved wishes of a speedy recovery. Samara poked her head out of the starboard observatory deck to whisper an asari prayer of healing. Thane pressed her hand gently between his and murmured his best wishes as well—Garrus bit back the urge to snarl. As it was, his arms tightened around Shepard's body.

They finally arrived at the restroom. She turned bright red when he actually walked her _in._

"Garrus, the men's restroom is on the port side of the ship."

"Just dropping her off, EDI," he replied easily, lowering her gently onto her feet.

"I can, ah, do it from here," Shepard said awkwardly.

Garrus chuckled a little to himself and left.

Finally some peace. Alone time. Shepard found herself desperately missing her cabin. It may have been too big and too clean, but hell if it wasn't nice and private. Once she was finished using the toilet, she decided a shower would be nice, too. She peeled back the bandages and observed her wound.

The injury had healed over; all that remained was stiffness and a dull, throbbing pain. Good enough for a shower, she decided. She pressed the button and already warm water began to stream down. Gritting her teeth, she stepped into the spray.

_Wow, that stings like hell. Had worse, though. A little pain is a small price to pay for a clean body._

Shepard watched the drain as dried blood spiraled down into the little metal grate. The pain in her side eased into the 'tolerable' category as she washed herself. Once she felt satisfyingly sanitary, she stepped out and realized she'd forgotten a towel.

"Shit," she muttered.

"May I be of assistance, Commander?" EDI chimed.

"Can you, ah . . . dry me off somehow?"

There was a pause, one that Shepard would have characterized as 'amused.' "I have alerted someone to bring you a towel, Commander."

"Thanks, EDI. You're a lifesaver."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

Soon enough, there was a knock on the door.

"Come on in!" she called.

Engineer Daniels slipped in with a smile and—God bless her—a towel on her arm. "Here you go, Commander. Heard about your . . . predicament. Had to battle my way past that turian, though."

Shepard ran her hand over her face. "Sorry about that. Turians are, ah . . . they're . . ."

"Protective," the engineer supplied helpfully.

"Good one. Thanks, Daniels," Shepard said, gladly accepting the pristine, white towel. "You are a godsend."

"More like an EDI-send," she laughed. "And you can call me Gabriella."

"You're the best, Gabriella. And I _mean_ that. You're my favorite engineer on this ship. You know, out of the human ones." She made an indulgent expression and whispered, "Don't tell Kenneth."

Gabriella giggled, and the sound was soft and sweet. "It'll be our little secret. I'll leave you to dry off, Commander."

And Shepard was once again alone. She toweled off slowly, lazily, thoroughly enjoying the silence and serenity of her newfound alone time. Not wanting to stuff herself back into her battered, torn armor pants, she simply wrapped herself in the big comfy towel and walked out into the hallway.

Garrus greeted her with an impatient-sounding growl.

"Hey, you can't go around abusing my engineers, Garrus," she lectured him, wagging a finger in his face. "I think there are rules against that in the handbook."

He simply snorted and batted her hand away. "What handbook would that be?" He made to scoop her into his arms again but she slapped his hands.

"I can do it _myself_. And that would be Shepard's Handbook of Unwarranted Alien Aggression."

"Whatever, Shepard."

If showering had been difficult, walking was like trying to learn Chinese with a speech impediment. It was slow going, to say the least. She took it in stride—literally—but was regretting trying to speed past the pain by the time she hit the elevator. She leaned over and supported herself on the wall, gasping for breath.

All the while, Garrus waited with his arms crossed. "Still too stubborn for help?"

"You . . . bet," she panted. "I'm going up to my cabin. No more of this 'med bay' crap for me."

He sighed. "All right. I'll cut you a deal. You let me carry you to your cabin, and you can stay there for the night."

"I am the captain of this ship! I make no deals with turians! Remember how that turian councilman tried to treat me?"

He rolled his eyes, as best a turian can. "Yeah, yeah."

"And remember what happened to him?"

"You let a reaper kill him and the rest of the council."

"It was a hard choice to make. Others might have cracked under the pressure."

"No, not Commander Shepard. She sent the council members to their doom. What a great choice."

It was Shepard's turn to snort. "I didn't _want _to kill them, okay? Maybe the turian, but the asari and salarian were sort of nice to me." She sighed, knew she was changing the subject, and caved. "Go on. _Carry_ me." She held her arms out in front of her with a very put-upon expression.

"You make it seem as if I'm torturing you, Shepard. Sorry I'm going to give you a luxurious ride to your cabin, subjecting myself to be your very attractive and comfortable steed."

She was still laughing when they reached her cabin. He carried her over the threshold like a husband on their wedding night—she giggled even harder about the thought of them getting married. She wondered if he'd be okay with her stuffing wedding cake into his mouth while carefully avoiding his sharp teeth, the spiky fangs proving perhaps another problem when he'd have to remove her garter with them. Jeez, maybe the morphine was still floating around in her system.

Garrus was giving her a very confused look. She probably seemed pretty crazy to him at the moment, chuckling almost uncontrollably as he set her gently down onto her bed.

"Maybe you need some more sleep, Shepard. You're losing it." He pulled the covers up and over her slim frame, and even tucked them in around her. "Sleep," he ordered firmly. "I will be in the main battery. You are not to leave this cabin for at least another six hours."

"You can't give me ord –,"

"Just shut up and sleep, Shepard. We haven't taken this much care of you for you to blow us off." He gave her a pointed look, and she shut up. "Good night, Shepard," he called over his shoulder at the door.

"Garrus –,"

Garrus stopped and turned to face her.

"Thank you. So much. I know how horrible it was waiting by your side when you were injured . . ." She looked down and bit her lip. "I'm just glad that you stayed by me."

After a brief moment of silence, he smiled. "Of course, Shepard. Just don't do it again. You already died once. No more dying, all right?"

She laughed. "Agreed."


	6. Good Morning, Bane of my Existence

Consciousness slowly embraced Shepard, like a quiet, soft hug. It was as luxurious as it was rare, but she cherished it just the same. When the fuzziness of sleep had left her, and she was feeling a little more awake, Shepard took in her surroundings. She was facing upward—she could feel the pillow beneath her. Sometime during her sleep, she'd kicked the blankets off of her. Wait . . . oh, damn, she was naked, too. Oh, well. She slowly stretched out each muscle until her body was ready to move, and then she sat up and opened her eyes.

The room was lit—hell, the damn room was _always _lit—and her towel had fallen to the floor in a crumpled heap. She leaned down and picked it up, folded it up nice and neat, and set it aside. With a long yawn, she got to her feet and stretched, eliciting a few pops from her muscles.

* * *

The sudden sound of movement immediately woke Garrus up. In an instant he was on his feet and whirling around in search of the impending threat. When his eyes met Shepard's bed, he inhaled a breath of shock unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

Shepard was completely naked, halfway through the process of making her bed, her backside both gloriously bare, and gloriously exposed in his direction. Quick as lightning, she grabbed up the towel and hid as much of herself behind it as she could.

Garrus was frozen where he stood. Sure, he'd thought of Shepard naked before, especially before, during, and after their full-contact spars on the previous Normandy. And the funny thing was, he wasn't _into_ humans—at least, not in that way. They seemed too small, too squishy, too . . . un-plated. But he'd never seen Shepard as 'human.' She was always a warrior, a survivor, a leader. The thought of her bare beneath him, writhing in pleasure—the few times he'd been weak enough to let the images corrupt his mind—always got his lower plates shifting. In fact, they were moving around right now as he stiffened beneath his armor. _Spirits. Keep it in your pants, Vakarian!_

"Garrus, what are you doing in here?" she was demanding, using one hand to hold her towel up and the other to flail around to illustrate her flustered anger.

"I'm sorry, Shepard, I didn't know you were, ah . . . you know . . . _that way_."

"You didn't notice I was _naked_?"

"I was asleep!" he defended himself with a scowl—or at least the turian equivalent. "I didn't know you strip clothes while you sleep."

"I don't need a guard dog, Garrus," she retorted, pegging him with a very _we're-going-to-have-some-words-about-this-later_ kind of look. "A turian sneaking into my room while I sleep—I could have you arrested, you know!"

He snorted. "Just try it."

Her eyes glinted mischievously, and then all of a sudden he was being shoved back against a wall with Shepard clinging to him like a monkey. "Make me prove it, Garrus," she hissed provocatively.

Garrus just sighed. "You're still on the mend, Shepard. Don't push yourself."

"Oh, yeah? Put me down."

He set her gently onto her feet and she parted her towel—much to his pleasure . . . and panic—to expose the injured half of her stomach.

It was completely healed. Unable to stop himself, he reached forward and ran the flat of his hand gently over the skin there. It was as warm and smooth as before the injury had flawed her perfect skin. Shepard inhaled a shuddering breath at his touch and her eyes flickered upward to meet his. The look she gave him sent a flame crackling down his spine.

"I don't believe it," he breathed, his whisper fluttering in the thick silence that had fallen around them.

She gave him a crooked smile and a shrug. "Cerberus may have . . . modified me a bit."

"Well, I'm glad they did, I guess."

"Me, too. I guess."

Realizing he still had his hand on the soft skin of her stomach, Garrus quickly pulled it away.

They shifted around uncomfortably, sizzling in the sexual tension and awkwardness of the moment. Put them side-by-side in a battle field and they'd put down more geth than you could count. But put them close together in a semi-sexual encounter . . . well, that was a whole different equation.

Garrus mumbled, "Maybe I should –," at the same time that Shepard tried to say, "Thanks for coming, but –."

They laughed and he gestured for her to speak first. Rubbing the back of her neck, she muttered, "Thanks for looking out for me. You got to see me naked, so I guess . . . you know . . ."

He chuckled that darkly appealing little laugh he had—sending secret little shivers all over her skin. "No problem, Shepard. You can always show me again sometime if you feel like it," he joked with an overly obvious leer, to emphasize how facetious he was being. "I'll be down in the mess hall if you need me."

"Thanks. I'll join you down there in a bit."

With a nod, he turned and left.

Shepard let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her room felt abruptly . . . cold, empty. Without him. Sure, he was a big presence—all turians were—but that wasn't it.

_Shit, Shepard, what have you gotten yourself into? Get dressed, you big sap._

* * *

It was going to take a lot of alcohol to get the image of her body out of his head. He was on his sixth glass by the time Shepard came down. She was wearing a white tank-top and brown cotton pants, both tight enough to accentuate her curves. With that wicked smile of hers, she dropped into the seat across from him.

Garrus poured himself another glass.

"I had a case of flowers sent to Dr. Chakwas and a box of dextro-sweets to Tali. I sent Grunt a vid of a krogan tearing apart a turian. Fake, of course," she said abruptly, realizing that the humor might be lost on an actual turian.

He nodded to acknowledge that he understood.

"Grunt has already sent me a very long message of thanks," she added with a toothy grin. "I thought he would enjoy that."

"You sound pleased, Shepard," he observed quietly.

"I like to think that I know my crew," she admitted cheerily. "It's one thing I pride myself on. You can't trust your crew if they can't trust you back. I like to make sure they're always satisfied."

"Is that so?"

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "I'm sensing a bit of sass in your tone, Vakarian. Are you mad about the turian vid? It's fake, I said. I made sure."

He simply huffed a breath and shook his head, with that same trace of impatience that she'd noticed before they went to get Jack.

"You've got a bone to pick with me, I assume."

Ignoring the fact that he had no idea what that meant, he gave her a deep glare.

"It means you're angry with me," she supplied brightly.

"Yes, I guess you could say I am," he bit back sarcastically.

"Where's all this coming from? What's up your ass, Garrus?" They'd been just fine up in her room not ten minutes ago. He was worse than a teenaged girl a day before her period.

Garrus was even growling a little. "You like us to be _satisfied_?"

"Yes. Of course." _Where the hell is this going, _she thought with not a little bit of worry.

"Then do you mind explaining why I haven't been on any missions with you? Not one!" he snapped bitterly, his voice rising to a painful volume.

"What the hell?" she demanded, her brow furrowed indignantly. "Why didn't you say something earlier if you had a problem with me?"

"I figured," he spat out through gritted teeth, "that you were so _in tune_ with your crew, you would've noticed. Apparently not. Apparently your 'best friend' on this ship isn't quite worth keeping an eye on."

He was flinging words at her with the intention to hurt, and it was working. She remembered back to the day she'd called him her best friend, and then back to just a few days ago, Kelly's warning. _Perhaps you should speak with him? _And then, his little sounds of disapproval right before the mission to get Jack. She _had_ noticed his anger. Why hadn't she done anything?

Then again, she hated being accused like this. It wasn't any conscious decision of hers to keep him out of her squad; it had just _happened_. Plus, he hadn't exactly come out and spoken with her like an adult. Instead, he'd sulked and bottled it up until now. Her anger outweighed her guilt. By a long shot.

"You could've _said something_. I can't read your mind, Garrus! Sorry I'm a bit busy saving the galaxy. I'll make a memo next time to check up on you every few days," she said acerbically.

Garrus roared in fury, his drink sloshing about as his hand trembled around the glass. "Yeah, I can see you're _real_ busy, Shepard. Drinking with Dr. Chakwas is definitely something you should be practicing to beat the collectors."

She'd been studying him angrily, and she laughed out loud at his comment. "You're the one who's trashed right now, Garrus! I can tell by the look in your eyes. You're _drunk_. Why don't you come back to me when you've had a nap and a cup of coffee?"

He didn't know what happened to him. One second, he was sitting there filled with anger and impatience and disappointment and sexual frustration, and the next he was shattering the glass cup in his fist and throwing himself across the table at her. He landed atop her with a guttural snarl.

She stared up at him defiantly, but calmly. "Is this how it's gonna be, Garrus?"

He was too far gone to reply. He growled a bit louder, if that counted as a response. Certain that he wasn't going to back off any time soon, Shepard let energy flow into her hands, getting them to glow a deep blue. Exhaling sharply, she shoved against him, letting her biotics assist her in throwing him off of her and across the mess hall. He landed against the med bay wall with a grunt, before slumping to the floor.

Shepard got to her feet with a dark smile. It had been a while since she'd sparred with Garrus, and she had the feeling that it was exactly what they needed. Their relationship had been so wishy-washy lately, and a good old spar was just the right tool to determine where they stood. Exhilaration was pumping through her veins as she stood over him.

"Commander? What's going on out here?" Dr. Chakwas poked her head out of the med bay with a startled frown. "You shouldn't be exerting too much effort, Commander! You've only just healed."

"I'll be fine, Dr. Chakwas. Thank you for your concern, though," Shepard added, not wanting to seem rude. "We'll be careful. I promise."

Grumbling something along the lines of "irresponsible warheads," Chakwas shuffled unhappily back to her desk.

Garrus was climbing onto his knees, his eyes alight with anger and bloodlust.

EDI popped into view on the counter. "Shepard, Garrus, perhaps the mess hall is not the most appropriate place for this. I am certain that Grunt would not mind sharing the port cargo hold for this type of activity."

"Cargo hold it is," Shepard said with a considerable amount of excitement. She strolled past him with that infuriatingly confident air.

Garrus got to his feet with a growl that was just as feral as it was eager. This balancing-on-a-high-wire crap was going to be put to an end.

Now.


	7. Love: The Perfect Suckerpunch

When he reached the port cargo, Garrus found Shepard leaning back against the far wall with her hair pinned up in that familiar tight bun of hers. Grunt was sitting beside her, smiling widely in anticipation. Violence: a krogan's candy.

The walk down had helped him temper his anger and release the energy to aid his strength. He approached the mats that she'd laid out and took his stance at one end. Following suit, she took the other end.

"This is going to be good," Grunt rumbled happily.

Garrus meticulously stripped himself of his armor until he was wearing only his undershirt and pants.

Shepard inhaled deeply, and then dropped to a crouch, one hand in front of her, the other idling until it was needed.

He took on a similar position, bending his knees.

She closed her eyes, thinking back to the mess hall, focusing on the intensity of his accusations, the wild look in his eyes, his refusal to let her explain herself. She hated having assumptions be made about her. She took that anger, harnessed it, let it consume her. Where emotion muddied up Garrus's ability to fight, it was the best assistant Shepard had in the ring.

When she was good and furious, she opened her eyes again. She flexed the muscles in her legs as if warning them of their incoming strain, and then launched herself at Garrus.

Even caught off guard, he threw himself to the side to avoid her attack. She followed the jump through in a somersault and came up on her knees. He was tall, his frame clumsy, so getting up to his feet took just a second too long. She spun and slammed her fist into the space just beneath his solar plexus, where there was a break in his natural plating. His breath was knocked out of him as she danced away, light on her feet. They circled each other as he regained his breath.

Grunt chuckled a little from where he watched. At some point, Tali and Jack had joined him.

Garrus's body was built for speed. Shepard had no time to avoid him as he leapt forward. She put out her hands to stop him and he grabbed one of her arms. In one, fluid twist he had her on her knees facing away from him, wrist locked to her back.

Struggling blindly, heart beating furiously, she kicked out a foot and, out of sheer luck, managed to make contact with one of his knees, a weak spot on turians. He let out a juicy curse and rolled away from her to recuperate. She swung out her foot and caught his ankle, pulling him onto his knees. With one more spin to increase her momentum, she thumped her palm into his chest.

Garrus was thrown backward, landing on his side with a grunt. The exhilaration was almost too much for him. He was more aroused than he had words to describe.

Jack laughed. "Nice one, Shepard. I'd almost think you meant it."

Shepard waited in a crouch, panting in exertion and frustration. Garrus was getting up again. Powered by anger, she lunged toward him.

He brought his hand forward and swung it around to strike her, straight on the mouth. With a cry of pain, she was propelled backward and landed on the ground. Moving with incomparable speed, he was suddenly on top of her, straddling her hips. His hands pinned her shoulders down to the ground while he smirked. A feral growl was rumbling in his throat.

She ran the back of her hand over her mouth, catching a drop of blood. She smiled. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, female intuition firing in her brain, she arched her hips upward, into his groin. The sensation caught him off guard, eliciting a small groan from his lips.

_That's it!_

Using her small window of opportunity, she focused her strength into her arms and thrust against him, using her legs to kick herself away from the ground. With an _oof_ of effort, she rolled upward and ended up on top of him. She pulled back her fist and let it loose into his chest with a loud _thump_.

He grunted in pain as she pinned his wrists to the ground. Spirits, feeling her press against him like that was _worth _the defeat.

They sat there for a long moment, gasping for breath.

There was a round of applause. They both looked up to see that almost the entire crew had come in to watch them.

"That was amazing, Shepard," Tali said happily.

Even Grunt . . . well, grunted in approval, pounding his fists together. "Very impressive, Shepard."

Slowly, the crew members began to file out, chuckling and talking amongst themselves.

"Thank you, siha," Thane rasped softly as he passed. "That was a display of fine combat that I have not seen in a while. Perhaps _we_ may spar sometime."

Shepard smiled, still sitting atop Garrus. "I'd like that."

Garrus felt bile rise in his throat. _Not fucking likely, drell asshole. Jeez, this was supposed to _alleviate_ my anger._

When everyone was gone, her gaze returned to the turian beneath her.

He felt a surge of embarrassment. His pants were thick, but there was no way she couldn't feel his arousal beneath her. And yet she gave away no emotions as she looked down at him, that odd, unidentifiable emotion in her eyes.

Garrus could smell her floral scent and the enticing smell of sweat. He wanted now more than ever to just rip open their clothing and impale her on his length, watch her ride him to her release.

Her eyes flared, almost as if she could read his mind, and then another scent joined the other two—heady, thick, a damp sort of smell. She was instantly crawling off of him. With a huff of breath, she leapt to her feet. She smiled down at him as she helped him up. "Thanks for that, Garrus. I haven't felt more at rest for a long, long time."

Her smile struck him as off, her voice overly sweet and casual.

_She was lying._

As she sashayed away, her hips swinging in a tantalizingly appealing way, he considered the idea that she desired him as well. That maybe . . . she had been thinking of the same thing.

Grunt came clunking back down the stairs. He eyed Garrus warily as he reached the bottom. "Mind leaving, turian? Your pheromones are stinking up my room. I won't be able to sleep with this smell everywhere."

Glaring, Garrus left.

* * *

Shepard was peeling her clothing off as soon as she got to her cabin. God, she needed a cold shower. What was going on with her head? She was never really attracted to turians, but just the thought of Garrus and her . . . just thinking back to his hands rough and warm and animalistic on her body. . . . She shivered all over as she turned the water on and immediately stepped into the warm spray. Normally taking a shower was an activity she cherished, the sheer comfort and luxury of it an anomaly in her typically dangerous lifestyle. But right now, when the warm drops ran over her skin, she imagined the rough palms of his hands stroking the curve of her neck, down her collarbone, the flat of her stomach, the flare of her hips, lower, slowly, gently.

Shepard let her hand ease down to the junction between her hips. When her fingers brushed across the soft, sensitive folds of her core, she sucked in a sharp breath. She threw out a hand to support herself against the tiled wall, using the other to touch herself, heavily pursuing the release she could feel building between her thighs. The feel of the water running down her skin intensified the sensation. Images began to roll together in a snowball effect: teeth marking her skin, two long hands pinning her down, the large body against her, pushing into her, a guttural growl in her ear.

With a deep groan, she threw her head back and her body twitched as she rode out the waves of pleasure racing through her body. She slumped back against the cool tile once every last aftershock had twitched through her.

* * *

Garrus growled in frustration. He was pacing the main battery, hoping the utter mechanical and non-sexual atmosphere of it would put the burning desire in him to rest.

It didn't.

At all.

Fuck.

He stared down at his hands. It seemed he could still feel the soft curves of her body beneath them, her supple frame giving way beneath his as he took dominance. She had _never_ won a spar before. _Ever_. The sensation of submission, as much as he'd feared it—as male turians do—had been shockingly pleasurable, feeling her control him, sit above him, wrestle him into giving in.

Damn it.

The images in his head were threatening to consume him. Laying her back, tasting the smooth, clean taste of her skin, memorizing every contour of her body with his hands. But those images weren't the ones that left him breathless, left him _scared_.

It was the image of him rolling her head to the side, pressing his mouth to the curve of her neck, and sinking his teeth in.

_A mark._

That was a _very _dangerous path to go down, but once he realized that he wanted her _that way_, the urge devoured him entirely. He had to have her, had to be with her, had to _claim_ her.

It figures, he thought warily, after decades of zooming around the galaxy, joining C-Sec to impress his father—and the occasional female—trying to vanquish bad guys, rebelling against an organization whose morals just didn't fit his . . . he always figured he'd meet his mate sometime within that huge, complicated mess.

It figures that, after decades, it would be her.

Shepard.

_I need a drink._

_

* * *

_

When Garrus finally returned to the main battery, feeling satisfyingly tipsy again, he saw the beeping on his console that meant he'd received messages.

The first was from Tali—

_Garrus, we should talk. I know you love her. Come see me sometime._

_Tali'Zorah_

Oh, spirits. That one was way too much to think about. He shoved it aside for another time and brought up the next one, from Commander Shepard herself.

_Garrus,_

_I'm heading to the Citadel to meet Anderson tomorrow. Wanna come? I'm not just asking because you attacked me in the mess hall, either. I'd like you to be there with me, okay? So don't be a jerk about it._

_Shepard_

_P.S. Dress nice. _

Garrus chuckled. Leave it to Shepard to turn what he was sure would become a really awkward memory into something more comfortable with that aggressive humor of hers. But Tali's message was still haunting him.

Of course. He wanted her as a mate—which meant he loved her, right? Why hadn't that occurred to him? Maybe love just seemed like such a . . . a definite, final, deep concept.

He slid to the floor, his back resting against the wall of his console. He had always found her attractive, even for a human. Turian women were . . . hard. Tall. Cold. Turian lovemaking was quick and to the point. Still fun, but always . . . oh, what had Joker called them . . . _quickies_. Human women seemed too . . . soft. But Shepard was so strong. And she smelled so _good_. Like an autumn breeze. A sort of lilting, floral scent that was there and gone in an instant. Her hair reminded him of the colors of fire, especially the way it made his throat burn when he saw her.

It wasn't just her appearance, though. He clenched his talons into fists, thinking of her strength. Her determination. Her fierce love of her crew. Her confidence.

He swung around and slammed his fist into the metal wall of the console with a frustrated shout.

_You're useless, Vakarian._


	8. A Guy Could Get Used To This

"I dunno, EDI," Shepard muttered, hesitating as she stared into her closet. Seventy-five percent of it was taken up by her armor, her favorite color, that dark maroon, updated with every safety feature you could find—legally or not.

But, believe it or not, Shepard did have a few civilian clothing options to her name, one of which her object of interest at the moment. Long, dark blue, thin as a sheet, the dress hung in the very back of the closet, neglected for years. She had no idea why she kept it—she hadn't used it since her very first Alliance ball almost a decade ago—but she could never bring herself to get rid of it. Maybe today was the day to put it on again? Maybe?

She was seeing Anderson again for the very first time in two years. He hadn't just been her captain, he'd been one of her closest friends. She figured he deserved a nice dinner, and he deserved enough respect from her to dress up nice.

"Have you made your decision, Shepard?" EDI sang patiently from her console by the door.

Shepard bit her lip, but nodded. "I think I have. Maybe. Sort of."

She carefully pulled the dress out and laid it onto her bed. Feeling ridiculous, she shed her normal coat and pants and found some thin, lacy underwear she'd been saving for a rainy day—or rather, a day when she didn't want any underwear lines to show. . . . . The material of the dress slid over her skin soft as cotton, and clung to her every curve. She was surprised by how she felt in it. Not silly. Not ridiculous, as she'd anticipated.

Shepard felt . . . for the first time in a very long time . . . _sexy_. She twirled and surprised herself with a clear little laugh.

"A great choice, Shepard," EDI complimented her. "He will love it," she added in a notably toneless voice.

Shepard was tossing long-forgotten clothing items out of her closet, searching for the shoes she knew would perfectly match her dress, when she stopped and looked up at EDI's orb. "You're not talking about Anderson, are you, EDI?"

"Logging you out, Shepard."

* * *

Garrus waited at the airlock, fidgeting uncomfortably. He'd stuffed himself into a formal turian outfit, a smaller, thinner version of their normal armor. Blue outlined a forest green oval in the middle of his chest, with gold lines separating the two. Tali rested against the wall beside him, indulging in a secret smile at his discomfort. She herself wore a suit of brilliant gold and black. Quarians, for all their immune-system deficiencies, know how to dress up. Tali's hood was jet black with golden patterns twisting around the soft material.

Joker shot Garrus a heavy look. "Looking debonair, buddy. Not my taste, really, but then I've never been a big turian fan."

Tali giggled and the pilot shot her an amused wink.

"Okay, everybody. Ready?"

They all turned—and all three froze in their spots.

The woman who stood before them was not any woman they'd met before. Delicately curled ringlets of fiery red falling to her shoulders, a dress clinging appealingly to her body, legs looking extra-long as they rode two blue high heels like they'd been born to do it, a silver star pendant falling to the dip between her breasts, calling attention to the sweet depression there . . . The foreign woman shot them all a frustrated glare.

"Oh, don't _give me that look_," she scolded them all. "It's a fancy dinner, so I'm appropriately fancy-looking. Can we please leave now?" A delicate pink tinged the porcelain skin of her cheeks.

"Yeah, once Garrus picks his jaw up and fastens it back to his face," Joker muttered, turning back to his console as he elicited another laugh from their quarian friend.

"You look fantastic, Tali," Shepard breathed, shooting Joker an appreciative glance. She was holding a little clutch purse to her side, and used her free arm to gesture toward the airlock.

Tali leaned in close and whispered, "So do you, Shepard. Go easy on him tonight. He is about to pop." Laughing to herself, the quarian disappeared into the airlock, leaving the human and turian to quickly glance at each other, and look away just as swiftly.

* * *

They met Anderson at the Dark Star Lounge a little bit late. Between Shepard and Garrus, they'd been stopped and hit on so many times that they'd actually been held up about ten minutes—Tali, as beautiful as she looked, was still a quarian, and not as welcome of a sight on the Citadel. Flustered, but not a little bit flattered, Shepard huffed out an impatient breath when the lounge finally came into view.

"Jeez Louise," Shepard muttered, using a phrase neither of her squad-mates were too familiar with, though in a tone they understood well enough. They were ushered into the room and shown to a booth near the very back, where the music was quiet and the booths were a little bit more private.

Anderson was waiting there in his most formal attire, a black suit and white shirt underneath. He stood up to greet them and was just as shocked as everyone else to see Shepard in a dress.

They shared the warm embrace of two friends long parted, and then stepped back to take a good look at each other.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd have mistaken you for one of the bachelors that hang around here every night," Shepard joked.

Anderson let out a laugh from deep in his belly. "Please, sit down, all of you. I have to admit, you're looking quite different, Shepard."

She winked and settled herself between Tali and Garrus. "Laugh it up, Captain. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to see the famous Commander Shepard in a dress."

"Actually, it's Councilman now, thanks to you," he admitted, a little bashfully.

_Oh. That's right. _Frowning a little, Shepard nodded to indicate that she remembered.

An asari waitress approached the booth with a wide smile. Her fringe was tinted a light purple color and one long, white line ran down the bridge of her nose. "Hello, how may I help you tonight?" Her eyes lingered just a second too long on Garrus, who was looking decidedly "debonair," as Joker had said, in his suit. Shepard felt a wave of possessiveness roll through her.

* * *

Garrus was looking everywhere, anywhere, to distract himself from the delicious human beside him. He was luckily sitting at the edge of the booth, so if things got too hard being so close to her, he could get up and excuse himself to the restroom if need be. Spirits, she smelled _amazing_ next to him. It wasn't just her normal floral scent, there was something new, a foreign perfume. He wasn't too good with human smells, but it might have been a fruity scent? Trying to remember all the human fruits he knew was a good enough distraction, and he managed to get all the way to watermelon when the waitress showed up.

He could sense her obvious interest in him. Ha. Yeah, right. He was never really into asari—too common, too willing—and he was pretty sure he'd never find anyone else attractive while sitting next to Shepard. Once everyone else had ordered, he asked for the strongest drink they had—that wouldn't kill him, of course. Casting him one last sidelong glance, the asari left to get their drinks.

He struggled to keep his composure. He could feel Shepard's heat next to him, that delicately appealing scent and the even more enticing smell of her skin. Occasionally she would laugh at something Tali or Anderson said and the sound was like the feeling of cool water after a long day in Palaven heat, odd, tingling sensations panning over his body in droves. He wanted her with the fiercest yearning he'd ever felt. It seemed like nothing could ever hold for him the excitement, the exotic promise of joy, that Shepard did. Spirits, if he could just grab her and shove her down onto the table, pin her arms down, rip her dress up –

"Garrus? You in there?"

He blinked rapidly to clear his head and murmured an apology to Anderson across the table.

The councilman waved a hand to indicate that it was fine, glancing pointedly at Shepard and then back at Garrus, as if to say _I understand if you're distracted._ "I was asking how you feel about the upcoming mission."

_Ah. That. Right. Suicide mission. _The mission seemed like nothing compared to Shepard. "Well," he said with a shrug. "They killed Shepard once, and it just pissed her off. I can't imagine they'll manage a second time."

They all shared a good laugh over that, and then it was easier for Garrus to fall into the feel of the conversation. Their food came—he couldn't even remember _ordering_—and their conversation fell into a lull as they ate.

Shepard exhaled once she had finished. The food was good, the music was catchy, the atmosphere was wonderful. All in all, a fantastic meal, she decided. When they had all finished, and the plates had been cleared, a new song with a slow beat and a deep, pulsing sound rolled out of the speakers.

"Oh, I used to love this song," Shepard said, smiling lazily. "It's elcor-made, but since it's all synthesized nobody can tell." She turned to Garrus with an innocent smile. "Would you dance with me, Garrus?"

"Gah."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, yes I'd love to."

"Great!"

She grabbed him by the hand and dragged him toward the dance floor, while he prayed to any god who would listen to not let him make a fool of himself.

Anderson cleared his throat. "Are they . . . ?"

Tali shook her head. "No. Well, I don't know. I don't even think they know. I believe that they want to be, but they are both thinking about it too much. Garrus was traumatized when he heard that Shepard had died, and Shepard had lost everything. They both returned from that experience a little different. They're still getting used to themselves, along with each other. But I think that they want to very badly, whether they will admit it or not."

The councilman smiled a little. "I've never been friendly with turians, but I think he would be good for her. He's strong like her."

They watched Shepard try to teach Garrus to dance and, judging by his mortified expression, it wasn't going so well. Her face grew a bit frustrated as he refused to try, and she ended up yelling at him. He snorted and scolded her right back. In mere seconds, she was on his back and he was grabbing at her in frustration, both of them hollering at each other and wrestling in the middle of the dance floor.

Tali looked over them fondly, as a mother might watch her children play. Anderson raised an eyebrow.

"This is normal of them?"

She laughed. "As normal as they get."

* * *

"Hey!"

"Cut it out!"

"I'm _trying_ to _dance_!"

They bumped into the occasional dancer, Garrus grinding out an apology through his gritted teeth as Shepard clung to him like a pyjak.

"You won't even try!" she cried angrily.

He growled, the sound more like a sigh than anything, and pushed her up against the nearest wall. "Get off. You're going to get us kicked out, Shepard."

"Nope. Not unless you dance with me."

He recognized the determination in her voice, and gave in. "Fine. Now climb down. You humans are like animals!"

She snorted, knowing he didn't mean it, and hopped down onto her feet. After clearing her throat and adjusting her dress, she took hold of his hands.

He was already nervous again.

"Calm down, Garrus. We'll start slow." With a gentle smile, she placed his hands on her hips. He wiggled his fingers, which wrapped all the way around to the small of her back. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth.

"Good," she encouraged him softly. "Now. Come close to me."

If he got any closer to her, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions, he decided. That thought brought with it relief, and a swell of excitement broke through any lingering restraint. His discomfort melting into simple nervousness, he stepped in so that his hands were flat on her back and her arms could wind around his neck. They were close enough in height that she could've kissed him, if she'd been so inclined. The thought made his heart race. Turians didn't kiss, but he'd been around humans enough to know what the action was, and, perhaps more importantly, what it _meant_. It was a sign of intimacy that could range between sexual desire or loving affection. Hell, he'd even seen family members kiss, a more chaste indication of acquaintance. The idea of Shepard pressing her mouth to his sent excited little shivers down his spine. He imagined the action to be strange, erotic in its foreignness.

"You're doing great," Shepard whispered, close to his face so that he could hear her over the music. "Now move your hips with mine."

Oh, crap. He _knew_ how to dance. He'd danced with numerous partners before, but they had all been turian females, and it had been in turian dance styles, which were significantly less intimate and significantly more violent than the ways that humans danced. Even now, Shepard was pressing her hips into his, eliciting a definite and immediate reaction from his lower plates.

What was the purpose of this? To make him spontaneously combust? Because that was the only thing he could foresee happening at this point.

"Loosen up," he faintly heard her say, and then that sharp, light laugh of hers. "You look stiff as a board, Garrus."

Feeling embarrassed, but enjoying the sensation of her body against his, he attempted to swivel his hips in the same fashion as hers. Purring in satisfaction and encouragement, she matched his pace and, once he'd gotten used to the movement, they moved in sync.

"Perfect," she murmured, her voice considerably more breathless than before.

_Is she enjoying this . . . just as much? Spirits . . . _

Garrus closed his eyes. Sparring was the closest they'd ever gotten to this kind of contact. Even if she ended up not feeling the same way, he decided tonight he didn't care. He may never get this chance again, and it would be wasteful, no, _blasphemous_, to pass up this opportunity.

His hands tightened around her and he buried his face in her neck. Moaning a little at his sudden movement, she brushed her hair out of the way so that he could brush his mouth against the soft skin of her throat. They moved against each other with vigor now, all awkwardness forgotten, replaced with the abandon of pure physical desire.

The smell of her skin was intoxicating. The urge to bite arose and it took all of his self-control to hold back. It would be so fucking easy to just sink his teeth in. They were approximately three feet from the nearest wall—an easy enough distance to cross to slam her up against it, tearing through this ridiculously thin material beneath his hands, hear her moan, hear her _scream_.

They danced for longer than they'd anticipated. It wasn't until several songs had passed, and the dance floor had mostly cleared, that they returned to reality.

Tali and Anderson approached the dance floor, having long run out of things to talk about. In fact, they'd grown a bit impatient waiting for the two of them to quit. Tali tapped Garrus on the shoulder, and the two dancers broke apart. Out of breath and aroused beyond reason, they released each other.

"Ready to go, Shepard? I used your credit chit to pay for our dinner as you'd wished." Tali worked to keep her tone patient.

"Oh," Shepard said, returning to her senses. "Right. Thank you, Tali. I must've . . . lost track of the time."

Anderson smiled and clapped her on the shoulder. "A wonderful meal, Shepard. I hope to see you again soon. Thank you for this night—it's been more fun than I've had in years."

They shared another hug. "I'll stop by again soon, okay?" Shepard promised. "I miss being on a ship with you, Councilman Anderson."

"As do I, Shepard, as do I."

The four of them eventually meandered out of the lounge and into the bright lights of the main corridor. Anderson bid them farewell and took a cab back to the presidium, claiming with a night at the Dark Star came a twenty-four hour recovery period.

It wasn't until she'd left the dark lounge that Shepard realized she was more than a little tipsy. From the way he was swaying a little on his feet, Garrus seemed to be, too.

"You two are impossible," Tali chided good-naturedly. "What am I to do with you?"

Shepard shrugged and put her arms through those of her squad-mates. "Thanks for taking care of us, mommy," she sang with a toothy grin.

"Oh, Keelah, Shepard, you are embarrassing me." Tali pulled away with a giggle and the commander stumbled at her absence.

"Whoa, there," Garrus said, grabbing her up. He put an arm around her shoulders to steady her. "You're useless, Shepard!"

She scoffed. "Not true. I taught you how to dance."

"I know how to dance, thank you very much. Back on Palaven I was quite the bachelor."

Shepard was still laughing as they reached the rapid travel terminal.

"Shepard?"

_Oh, no._

She closed her eyes.

_Not that voice. Anything but _that _voice._

_

* * *

**DUN DUN DUN!**_


	9. Finally Getting Through

Shepard turned slowly, Garrus's arm tightening protectively over her shoulder.

"I'll call the cab," Tali whispered in her ear from behind her.

Shepard gave her the tiniest of nods.

Kaidan approached slowly, a blonde woman tucked under his arm. "Is that really Commander Shepard?" the woman cried hopefully. She held out an excited hand. "My name is Tora Yates. I'm a _huge_ fan."

Smiling tightly, Shepard shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Tora." _God, please don't let me pass out right now._

"Kaidan hasn't talked about you much, but I knew he was on your ship," Tora chatted in her light voice. She had pretty green eyes and wore smoky eye shadow. Shepard found herself wondering if _her_ make-up was still intact after her dance-off with Garrus. "Is this turian mated to you? Fascinating! You know," she continued on with a bit of a giggle. "I always wondered what kind of man would fit the famous Commander Shepard. Somehow I'm not surprised it's not a man at all!"

Kaidan turned white as a sheet, and Garrus stopped breathing.

A wide grin cut across Shepard's face. This was going to be much more fun than she'd thought.

"No –," Kaidan began, but she cut him off.

"Yes," she answered quickly, her smile turning sweet. She wrapped her arm around Garrus's thin waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Yes, he's mated to me. He's fantastic. Never found anyone like him."

"That's so sweet," Tora sighed, her eyes nearly glittering in girlish pleasure. She tugged at Kaidan's hand. "You never said anything about that!"

Kaidan was still looking quite pale. "I hadn't known," he answered tonelessly. He was looking at Garrus as if he'd never seen him before.

The turian beamed, playing along without missing a beat. "I served on the Normandy with Shepard, and when I first saw her, I knew she was the one." He pressed his face to hers and fluttered his mandibles against her cheek in a sign of affection.

Tora was nearly cooing now.

Their cab slowed to a stop beside them and Tali nearly dragged them in by their collars.

"It was wonderful meeting you, Tora!" Shepard cried as the quarian threatened to pull out her shotgun to get them to move faster. "I hope to see you again real soon."

"You, too, Commander!"

"Bye, Kaidan."

He simply nodded, and then the doors of the cab closed.

Tali shook her head as she sat across from the laughing couple. Smiling to herself, she wagged a finger at them. "That was the most awkward situation I have ever been in. You two are ruthless."

Shepard was laughing too hard to answer. Once she'd calmed down, she answered, "Oh, Tali. Go easy on me. I've never had an ex-boyfriend before. Never thought it'd be so fun."

Garrus snorted. "Don't think he counts as an 'ex-boyfriend,' Shepard. From what I know, you two had one night of passion before Ilos and then, well . . . you died."

Shepard scowled and punched him on the shoulder. "Who told you _that_?" She glared at Tali, who remained pointedly silent. "You two gossip like old ladies! My love life is private, thank you very much!"

"You, ah, weren't very quiet," Tali admitted timidly, her voice reduced to a nearly inaudible volume.

Shepard turned bright pink. "Oh, jeez."

Garrus was howling with laughter.

She beat him until the cab driver threatened to pull over and kick her out.

"These drunken nights have to stop," Shepard told herself decisively as she showered the next morning. When she thought back to how she'd treated Kaidan, she flushed with embarrassment. Yeah, he'd been kind of a dick to not let her explain herself—a mistake that she absolutely _hated_—but he didn't deserve to have a new boyfriend shoved in his face.

A _fake_ new boyfriend. Male-friend. Whatever. Though, when she remembered the way that 'fake' male-friend had held her, the small part of her that still considered him platonically disappeared altogether.

_Oh jeez, Shepard. _

She turned the water off and took a deep breath.

_Time to see a man about a turian._

Garrus inhaled deeply and, before he had a chance to stop himself, plunged into the engineering deck.

"You stupid bosh'tet!" Tali greeted him. "I was wondering when you would come down here!"

"Nice to see you, too," he retorted.

She waved his remark away and gestured toward the drive core. They walked to the very edge of the deck and she leaned against the console there, crossing her arms very pointedly.

"What do you want from me, Tali?" he said, throwing his hands up. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"So you admit: you do love her."

He paused, closing his eyes. He'd never experienced love before, but the pounding in his heart when he thought of her, the way her voice seemed to slither all over his skin . . . if this wasn't love, he didn't know what was. He sighed and rubbed the back of his fringe. "I think I do."

"Ooh," Tali squealed, the most girlish thing he'd ever seen her do. She clapped her hands together in excitement. "What are you going to do about it? Will you tell her?"

"I don't _know_," he said, exasperated. "Like I said, I have no idea how to . . . you know . . ."

"Watching you two dance yesterday . . . it was like we weren't there anymore, like the restaurant wasn't there anymore. You two just . . . _disappeared_ into your own little world."

"Spirits, when you say it like that it sounds really . . ."

"Deep?"

He nodded, and the movement was decidedly frightened. "Do you think she feels the same way?"

She was already nodding. "I think that, if she hadn't before last night, she definitely does now."

"So what should I do?"

Tali tapped the bottom of her mask in a thoughtful manner. "Shepard is the type to initiate. But she's never been in love before. I'd say, give it a few days, and if she does nothing, approach her. But don't ignore her!" she said quickly, flapping her hands about and making him flinch. "Still talk to her, but don't bring anything up unless she does!"

"All right, all right," he said, holding up his hands to calm her down. "Recap: wait three or four days, and if nothing happens, talk to her."

Tali nodded. "Exactly. I think you will do fine, Garrus!"

He made a face. "I certainly hope so."

Mordin scratched his head. How had _scale itch_ gotten onto the Normandy? Puzzling. Troubling. Door opened. Frustration. He looked up, and then . . . interest.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Mordin?"

"Shepard. Bad time. Trying to discover how scale itch got onto Normandy. Sexually transmitted disease, only in varren. Implications . . . unpleasant."

"Well, it's kind of important, and along the same vein."

His head shot up. "About scale itch?" he demanded, with all the excitement of a scientist solving a problem.

"Ah, no. Sorry."

He waved a hand for her to continue, intrigued by her obvious embarrassment. "Listening, Shepard."

She leaned back against the opposite wall and didn't make eye contact. "I was wondering if, ah . . . well, how it would work if . . . ah . . ."

He held up a hand to stop her. "Wondering about possibilities of turian-human intercourse."

She gaped, but quickly recovered and nodded. "Yes. How did you know?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

At that, Mordin smiled. "Need not ask questions to find answers. Observed sparring match in cargo hold. Presented many facets to personal relationship."

"Oh."

He strolled casually around his desk, hands clasped behind his back. "Interspecies intercourse possible, though side-effects may be . . . unpleasant."

Shepard nodded as raptly and professionally as she could, all the while planning where she would curl up and die from embarrassment once she left the room.

Mordin tapped away at his omni-tool. "Rough skin of turian may result in chafing, unless proper salves applied. Having EDI send instructional vids to your cabin, suggest following up. Illustrate erogenous zones, comfortable positions for both species, and so on. Skin salve will be delivered to your cabin by tonight." He looked back up at her with a smile.

Scowling, she leaned in to inspect his face. "Are you messing with me, Mordin?"

He gaped as if offended. "Impossible! Doctor-patient confidentiality most sacred of bonds. Would never dream of mockery."

Shepard kicked off of the wall with a crooked smile. "All right, then, Mordin. I trust you. And . . . thanks." She stopped at the doorway and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Thanks a lot."

He waved her off. "Will remain here, study cell reproduction. Much simpler. Less alcohol and mood music required."

Shocking herself with the depth of her laughter, Shepard left the tech lab.

"Kolyat!" Shepard screamed.

The young drell turned at the last moment and stared at her. Her eyes flickered over his head at the quickly retreating turian and krogan. Cursing, Kolyat turned and popped a couple shots off. The krogan mercenary managed to take them for the politician.

"Thane!" Shepard shouted, sliding down from her position on the second story.

"I saw him," Thane replied smoothly, sprinting beside her.

"He's heading for Talid's apartment!"

When they reached the apartment, Talid was on his knees, Kolyat's pistol pressed to the base of his neck.

"Let him go, Kolyat!" Thane warned, Shepard and Garrus sliding into position on either side of him.

"This – this is a joke!" the young drell snapped. "Now? _Now_ you show up?"

"Help me, drell," Talid grumbled desperately.

"Shut up, Talid," Shepard ordered coldly. "We may be saving your life, but you're still a dick." She glanced over at Garrus.

Garrus sent her a half-heartedly chiding glare, but couldn't hold back a smile. She turned her eyes back to the drell. While Kolyat stared in disbelief at his father, she shot down a light behind him. As he flinched, she sped forward and landed a punch directly to the side of his face. He fell backward, and Shepard kicked the turian out of the way.

"Get out of here, Talid. You're lucky to be alive," she hissed.

He scrambled away, whimpering in fear. He reached the door just as Captain Bailey came in, flanked by two other officers.

Kolyat dropped his gun and stepped forward, holding a hand out toward his father. Thane touched his son's shoulder, as if unable to believe that he was actually there. A tear ran down his cheek.

"Get these two a private room," Bailey said to his officers. "Call a cab for us."

"Thank you, Captain," Shepard muttered. "I can't express how much this means to us."

Bailey nodded in a decidedly fatigued way. "Yeah, well I have you to thank for saving Talid."

When they had returned to the C-Sec office, and Thane and Kolyat were alone in the interrogation room, Shepard finally managed to relax. With a sigh, she rolled her shoulders, popping the muscles there.

"Ugh, I hate it when you do that," Garrus said with an overly obvious shudder.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, give it a rest. How does it look for Kolyat, Bailey?"

The captain rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, he _did_ try to murder a politician," he said reluctantly.

Shepard leaned over his desk, giving him a very pointed look. "He was a _douchebag_."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Can you give him community service or something? Keep it a strictly C-Sec issue?"

"I suppose I could," he admitted with a shrug. "I don't see why not. It would certainly save me a lot of paperwork."

Shepard smiled widely. "I'd owe you everything."

"I'll remember that next time some criminal needs a pounding," he added and she laughed.

"Thank you so much, Bailey."

The interrogation room door opened and they all straightened to see Thane come walking out.

"Our problems are more than just a few words can fix," he informed them sadly, "but if we stay in contact I believe we may be able to get past them. Eventually."

Shepard put a hand on his shoulder. "We're here for you, Thane."

He stared at her, his big black eyes seemingly depthless in their emotion, and then nodded. "This I know, Shepard. More than anything." In one swift, fluid motion he was in front of her and her hands were in his. Pressing one to the cool, scaly skin of his face, he sighed softly. "Shepard. _Siha_. Your friendship is more than I deserve, and more than I have ever prayed for."

"Oh," was all she could say in response, feeling her cheeks heat up when they reddened. The room seemed to grow ten degrees colder as Garrus stiffened beside her. "That's very . . . sweet of you, Thane."

He lowered her hands back to her sides and smiled. Those eyes, hypnotizing in their darkness, latched onto hers with a fire in them. "Siha," he said again tenderly.

Meanwhile, Garrus was wondering how quickly he could dismember Thane before C-Sec arrested him, or before Shepard took him down. Then again, Thane _was_ an assassin. Maybe he could actually take him. Add insult to injury. His shoulders began to tremble in earnest fury, building into a full-out rage.

Shepard took a step back from the drell with a tight smile, the type she dragged out for the most awkward of situations. "Thank you, Thane." She turned to Garrus, whose claws were curled into fists. Uh-oh. Time for some peacemaking. _And decision making_, she told herself chidingly. She'd dragged this out too long.

She held Garrus's hand all the way back to the rapid transit terminal.


	10. Ready Or Not, Here I Come

**I certainly hope you guys enjoy this chapter, the most obvious reason for that "M" rating you see ;) You've been warned.**

* * *

Shepard pushed her bangs out of her face. The damn hair needed something to hold it back—her bangs were just long enough to get in her eyes but too short to be held back in her normal bun.

_Gotta see Miranda about that. She's got to have something to help it. Maybe even a pin or – gah!_

In half a second she was pinned to the ground, the heavy weight of a full grown turian crushing her. "Pay attention, Shepard! What are you thinking about?"

With a frustrated growl, she smacked him right in the solar plexus. He fell off of her with a grunt and she leapt to her feet. "I'm a little rusty," she panted angrily. "It's been two years."

"It's only been a few days," Garrus countered as they circled each other.

"Yeah, since you drunkenly attacked me without warning."

He hissed and lunged at her again, but she was ready. She leapt to the side and he landed flat on the mats. Flipping onto her knees, she straddled him from behind with a feral cackle. "Come on, turian, impress me!"

Garrus growled wildly and shot up onto his hands and knees. Grabbing her legs and trapping them against his sides, he rolled himself onto his back, squashing her beneath his weight.

"Oof!" she gasped. She scrabbled desperately against his chest, her hands balling into fists around the material of his undershirt. Feeling a little guilty, he made to sit up, but she was clinging hard to his back, and his shirt tore in her grip. He freed himself from her grasp and darted to the opposite side of the mats to give her a chance to collect herself.

Shepard somersaulted onto her feet, looking down at the torn material in her hands. With a breathless laugh, she tossed it aside. She'd never seen his bare torso before, and the sight was as beautiful as it was . . . unfamiliar. His shoulders were impressively wide, but his chest was much leaner than that of a human male's. The patterns of his abdomen's plating were beautiful, the blue markings the same that decorated his face.

His dusty chuckle roused her from her ogling. "Done admiring, Shepard?"

Smiling, unembarrassed, she started their rotation again. She slowly inched closer to the middle of their circle until she was just a leg's length away from him. She dove to her stomach and whirled her legs out to sweep his out from under him. He dropped hard onto his side, but she didn't have enough time to roll away before he'd grabbed her. He clamped one hand around her wrist, the other hooking around her waist. Using his grip to jam her down onto the mats, he pushed himself up onto his knees.

She struggled, thrashing violently against his hold. The edges of his talons were catching on the thin, stretchy cloth of her shirt. His eyes widened as he realized it. Before his mind could stop his body, he applied just a tiny bit more pressure and the claws of his left hand pressed into her tank top. Pulling them quickly back, he ripped three long slits into her shirt.

That beautiful, porcelain skin! Noticing how the sight of it capturing all of his attention, Shepard managed to slip away from him. She glanced down at her ruined tank top with a laugh. "Eye for an eye. That seems to be how you roll recently, Garrus. But I can deal with that." She grabbed the edges of her shirt and pulled it up over her head. It was quickly discarded just like his.

_Spirits_.

She was wearing some mini-shirt over the top half of her torso, the two orbs that human males were so entranced with. Understandably, of course. He may have been a turian, but he found himself just as fascinated with the curves of Shepard's body. He'd done a lot of research in his spare time, studying the human female's body in depth. The pictures and vids he'd found had done nothing for him, but seeing Shepard's skin bare again like this had him erect in half a second. Her stomach was flat, skin tight over the muscles of her abdomen.

Shepard, sensing his distraction, threw herself at him and managed to drop him. His hands grabbed for some sort of hold on her, finding a grip only on the material of her pants. Figuring she was already half-naked—and seemed to be okay with it—he ripped them from her body. With an almost feral growl, she tangled her legs with his, knowing that turians weren't so coordinated below the waist. As he struggled to free himself, her lightning-quick, trigger-happy fingers managed to undo the buckles on his pants as well.

They freed their legs and quickly dashed away from each other, both of them gasping for breath. The atmosphere of the cargo hold had gone quickly from a playful spar to something much deeper, and the air was thick with sexual tension. Shepard pulled the remains of her pants away just as Garrus slipped out of his.

"This isn't equal, Shepard," he panted as his eyes roamed over her body. Her skin was marred in some spots by long, red lines in sets of three, evidence of his talons against her body. He wore no underwear, but she still had those goddamn, small pieces of clothing on.

"Fair enough," she said with a grin, and in a flash those little things were gone and she was once again naked before him.

Oh. Just . . . _oh_. She was absolutely gorgeous. Completely hairless all over, those fleshy curves that turian females didn't have completely bare for him. While he gaped at her, she lunged and pinned him. He let her trap him down. In a surprisingly delicate and tender fashion, she removed his visor and carefully set it aside. Following suit, he ran a talon through the elastic band keeping her hair up. The red tresses fell down around her face, wafting a cloud of her wonderful floral smell down around him, along with the intoxicating scent of her sweat.

She leaned down and lovingly pressed her lips to the scars that ran down the right side of his face. He closed his eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.

"This is not the place," she whispered, her voice equally as unsteady. Quick as lightning, he was on his feet with her huddled up in his arms. He checked to make sure the corridor was empty and sprinted for the elevator. She laughed as they moved, naked, through the hallway and slid as quickly as possible into the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, he had her pressed up against the wall, his mouth nibbling down her throat to the curve of her shoulder.

"You have no idea," he groaned, his voice throaty and raw, "how much I have wanted to do this, Shepard."

She was trembling as his hands ran down the sides of her body. She could feel his arousal thick against her lower belly as he pushed her into the wall. The elevator doors opened with a bing, and she used biotics to send him flying backward. He slid to a stop just in front of her bed.

In a swift second, Shepard was across the room and on the bed, eyes flashing, opening her legs suggestively.

He got to his feet, growling.

EDI appeared over in the very corner of the room. With a cry of shock, Shepard dove under the covers while Garrus just cursed.

"Do you require any assistance, Shepard? Would you like to see the vids that Professor Solus sent me?"

"No thank you, EDI!" Shepard groaned, her voice muffled beneath the sheets.

"Understood, Shepard. Logging you out."

The orb disappeared, but Garrus still felt uneasy. "Give me two minutes," he grumbled, trekking impatiently over to EDI's console. His omni-tool appeared around his arm and he set to work disabling the damned AI.

Shepard rolled around on the bed, whimpering eagerly.

Garrus glanced over at her, smiled, and then tapped the last few buttons necessary. He turned back to her with a hungry look in his eyes.

She was spread-eagle on the bed, long, thin legs draped outward as she propped herself up on her elbows. She was the picture of sexual desire: pink lips wet and slightly parted, red hair aflame against her flushed skin, pansy blue eyes brimming with suggestion.

He crawled his way over her body, stopping when his face was parallel to hers and he could feel her hot, sweet breath fan out over his skin. With a light touch, he trailed the end of a talon up her side. She squirmed longingly into his touch, savoring the slight pain. She was hot and wanting and everything he'd ever dreamed she'd be and _more_. His hands curled around the balls of her shoulders, making her arch her torso up into him. Keeping eye contact with her, he rolled a lick against the soft skin over her collarbone.

Shepard shuddered against him, her toes curling with the sensation. His tongue was rougher than a human's, almost catlike, and as it ran up the curve of one of her breasts and over a hard nub, she wondered fleetingly whether or not she'd mind if the feeling killed her, just took her life then and there. Certainly better than being launched into deep space and suffocating. His tongue seemed to be finding every contour of her sensitive torso, lathering one nipple after the other with sharp waves of pleasure. His name tumbled from her lips in a throaty groan and his arousal twitched in response. She was so goddamn sexy.

Garrus had always assumed that Shepard would be the death of him, but now, now with her hands scrabbling desperately at the plates of his shoulders, her knees clenched in pleasure around his hips, now he knew it for a fact. How many times had he imagined her like this, writhing beneath him with that spark in her eyes and a low, dusty chuckle? Every damn day of his life.

"Garrus, your inner monologue is leaving me high and dry here," she whispered, her humor somewhat marred by her breathlessness. She hiked a leg up over his hip as a hint.

Chuckling, Garrus lowered his face into her throat, running his tongue up the column of her neck. Her shoulders trembled in his hands. With one knee, he gently nudged her thighs apart, distracting her by tracing her earlobe with his tongue. Lost in his teasing, Shepard had no time to prepare herself when she felt the tip of him at her entrance. She sighed in relief—the itching need to be filled had been making her skin crawl.

Garrus went in slow, inch by agonizing inch, watching her face as he entered her. Shepard's eyes were electric desire, sharp on his as she bit her lip, a high, keening moan getting stuck in her throat with every centimeter of him that slid into her. After a moment that felt like forever, he slammed the rest of his length in. He groaned as she cried out, fingernails scraping against the plates of his shoulders.

Shepard was _so goddamn tight_, his cock throbbing within the vice-like grip. The ache lessened, Shepard was free to lock her ankles behind his back and angle herself for better penetration, whimpering with need.

"Please," she gasped, her fingers knotting desperately in the sheets beneath her. Her eyes were pleading. "_Garrus_. Don't stop now. _God_, don't stop now!"

Propping himself up with his hands on either side of her face, he tilted his hips out and rammed back into her, making her scream and grip the sheets harder, eyes clenched shut. In this fashion he started a rhythm, pulling out slow and thrusting brutally back in, his breath spilling out into her throat as he barely resisted the urge to bite. One of her hands came free from the blankets and came up to cup the side of his neck. She began to grind against each drive of his hips, the leathery hide of his pelvis rubbing deliciously against her bundle of nerves. Her fingernails bit into the skin of his neck but the pain was nothing, nothing compared to the pleasure. He was fascinated, absolutely fascinated, by how _fucking good_ it felt, her heat encasing him, driving rapture through every vein in his body. Judging by the expression on her face, she was feeling quite the same.

_Good_. He jerked hard into her, probably bruising her pelvis but eliciting another strangled cry from her lovely throat. His hands ran down her sides to grab her hips, stabilizing each rotation so that he hit her _just right_ every time.

"Oh, _God_, Garrus_!_" Shepard sighed, her free hand beating desperately against the bed. "Faster!"

His talons curling almost painfully into her skin, he slid one of her knees up onto his shoulder to allow himself better access as he picked up the pace. Each pump of his hips sent her into a frenzy, creating a blissful heaviness in her belly and robbing her completely of any coherent thought. It was all _Garrus_ and _pleasure_ and _how_ _thick_ he was inside of her. A growl started in his throat and the raw desire in it made rapture roll up her spine with greedy fingers, sucking at her self-control with each thrust that spiked her pleasure.

Saliva began to build in his mouth and he swallowed it back down, grinding his teeth together. The instinct to bite was almost unbearable, distracting him the tiniest bit from the exquisite human beneath him. That quickly disappeared, though, when Shepard cried out and sank her teeth into the side of his neck. He gasped, the sting of her bite beginning the sharp ascent to his climax. He licked the arc of a breast, savoring the salt of sweat there, her floral scent heady, mixing with his earthy smell and creating the most _intoxicating_ perfume.

Shepard cried his name once more and then a few religious statements and even a couple of curse words. The truth was, she had no fucking clue what she was saying anymore because none of it mattered, nothing mattered at all when Garrus was _hung_ and all the way in her _throat_ and it was _fantastic_, amazing, everything good in the world. He nipped the side of a breast and she arched up into the sensation, his rough skin rubbing up once more against her clit and _that was it_!

Her orgasm knocked the wind out of her as it came heaving through her, a burning heat in every cell of her body, a spasm through all of her muscles as she became unwound. Her scream shattered the sound of slapping flesh and their guttural breathing. Garrus savored the sound, so sweet and full of ecstasy, and coupled along with the—seemingly impossible—tightening of her walls around him, it was more than he could endure. With a gasp of surprise and rapture, he clenched her hips and thrust one last sporadic time before coming apart within her. His head fell forward and he barely restrained himself from biting her, sinking his teeth instead into the sheets where they bunched up beside her head.

Shepard's muscles relaxed and began to twitch with each aftershock. Slowly, feeling returned to the rest of Garrus's body and he untangled their bodies, gently helping her lie straight before collapsing at her side. They were breathless and more satisfied than either had thought possible.

"Oh. My. God."

She heard his dusty chuckle from beside her. "I could say the same," he whispered hoarsely. "I've never . . . anything like . . . wow," he managed between gasps.

With a soft laugh she grabbed his hand and held it to her lips. "You're the absolute best, Garrus."

"I certainly try."

She rolled over to rest her cheek on his shoulder and curl up into his side. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she murmured, "Thank you."

The look he gave her was overwhelming in the depth of its emotion. He gently cupped the side of her face. "Shepard, I don't know how to say . . . how I feel."

She chuckled huskily into his throat. "Then let's talk about feelings later. I'm so tired I am about to pass out."

Satisfied that they were going to talk about it sometime, he let his head fall back onto the pillow. He drew her to his chest and fluttered his mandibles against her hair. With one last low chuckle, she settled against his shoulder and fell asleep.

* * *

"Shepard hasn't answered. Do you think she missed the comm unit beep, EDI?"

"My sensors in Shepard's cabin have been temporarily disabled, Jeff."

"Huh." Joker rubbed the thick tuft of his beard and then straightened his hat. "Okay. I'm gonna beep her one more time." He pressed the button to connect to her room. "EDI, help me hack into her comm unit, please."

"Acknowledged," she responded, and then, "Done."

Using EDI's hack as assistance, he forced the comm unit into confirming the connection.

"What is she up to?" he muttered, leaning in to listen closely to her response.

"Jeff, perhaps this is not –,"

"Shh, EDI, I'm trying to figure out what's going on up there. Why Shepard disabled you."

A high, feminine panting came through the comm unit, interrupted by a deeply erotic growl. A woman cried, "Oh, _God_, Garrus," and then, "_Faster_."

Joker smacked the comm unit off with his fist. He shot EDI a shocked look. "Oh, my God."

"I tried to warn you, Jeff," EDI said, sounding not a little bit smug.

"Shepard and _Garrus_?" he rasped out, too astonished to speak above a whisper, as well as a tiny bit aroused. "Oh, my God. We must never speak of this!"

EDI pulsed dark blue. "Of course."

"Unless she deserves it," he added, his shocked smile turning wicked. "Then I may have to forget that it's a secret."

"Jeff, I do not think that –,"

He laughed out loud. "Relax, EDI. I'm just gonna take a quick look, and that'll be it, I promise."

"_Mr. Moreau_," she said, almost sternly.

"Oh, using my full name. Thanks, _mom_," he muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Jabbing the mute button first, he tapped away at the keyboard in front of him to bring up the camera for Shepard's cabin.

One image: all black, with three words written in white.

_Nice try, Joker._

_

* * *

_

_I never thought I'd fall in love with a human._ _I always assumed I'd bring home some nice turian girl with bright markings and a dark fringe and my father would adore her as much as I would. Somehow I don't think he'd adore Shepard._

Garrus peeked over at her sleeping body beside his and smiled to himself. What did he care if his father didn't like her? He hadn't seen his father in years, and likely wouldn't for countless more. He didn't care if the entire planet of Palaven didn't like Shepard; he was _keeping_ her.

Unless . . . she didn't want to be kept. He could understand that. They were close friends, and humans and turians both had the concept of a "one night stand." Sure, it might be awkward if they were on the same ship and saw each other every day, but he could handle that . . . right?

He closed his eyes.

_No._

It wasn't just a night of passion that he wanted. He wanted _everything_. She was a firecracker, deep blue eyes and a crooked smile, hands that were steady only around a pistol, two thick lips that could curse better than they could express emotion. He wanted every minute with her, listening to her rant and watching her take down geth and sparring with her in the cargo hold. He wanted to wake up next to her and follow her across the galaxy. He wanted to protect her and kill anybody who tried to step between them. There was absolutely nothing about her that he didn't like. The crease of consternation between her brows, sidelong glances of humor to make sure he laughed at one of her quips, the hard ease with which she operated in all parts of her life. He wanted to know every part of her body, multiple times a night.

"G'morning," Shepard yawned quietly beside him, startling him.

"Hello," he said back as evenly as he could. He didn't know what to expect. Maybe they'd done this too quickly. Maybe he should've stopped, and now she was going to kick him out of her ship forever. Feeling sick, he made to sit up.

"No," she mumbled sleepily, grabbing onto his arm. "Stay. Mmm."

Relief and fierce joy. He fell back beside her and she kissed the side of his face. Unable to stop himself, he clutched her up into his arms and drew her to his chest.

"Hey," she giggled softly, nuzzling her face into his neck. "I have to go brush my teeth. Will you wait here?"

"Of course," he rumbled, voice hoarse from sleep.

"Good." She untangled herself from his arms and leapt to her feet. Ooh, she was still naked. He watched her in fascination as she danced to the bathroom, the sinewy muscles rolling beneath that perfect skin as she walked. The door closed behind her with a swift, clean _shick_ sound. He could then hear the sound of the toilet flushing and the shower water running.

Leaning back against the pillow, Garrus let every part of his body slowly grow accustomed to movement. By the time the water in the bathroom stopped, his body was completely ready for whatever trials the day would hold for him. He heard that same _shick_ sound and Shepard came out of the bathroom draped in a towel as she had been a few days ago.

How long ago that day seemed now. . . . Seeing her naked had seemed like such a glorious achievement, and now he was recovering from a night of violent, interspecies passion.

Shepard was staring at him, a hand cocked saucily on her hip. "You getting up today, sleepy-head?"

Garrus rolled his eyes, but sat up nonetheless. After the room had stopped spinning from such a sudden movement, he threw himself up onto his feet.

Shepard moved lithely to her closet, stopping at his side with a brilliant smile. Taking his hand in hers, she used her free hand to open the closet and find her normal Cerberus outfit.

She had no idea how much that little gesture meant to him. It spoke volumes: she wanted him to stay, at least for the day. He would take it. Spirits, he would take as much as he could.

Shepard dressed, and he cursed as he realized that his armor still remained in the cargo hold.

With a snort of laughter, she pointed toward the bathroom. "You shower. I'll retrieve your clothes from the cargo hold. Captain's orders."

"Yeah. Right." But what could he do, refuse? So, grumbling halfheartedly, he trekked for the bathroom as she left her cabin.

Garrus was surprised by how good the water felt on his body. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back in the greatest shower he'd ever taken.

* * *

Shepard found herself whistling as she strolled into the cargo hold. Grunt greeted her with a wary scowl.

"A warning would've been nice before you stank up my home again."

She responded with a wicked smile, unembarrassed. Spotting the armor piled in the corner, she gave him a sarcastic look as she started picking it up. "Want me to get you an air freshener, Grunt?"

He snorted and bucked his head. "A little turian stink is nothing I can't handle!"

"Atta boy," Shepard approved, already leaving with the armor in her arms. As the elevator rumbled up to her cabin, she was surprised by how heavy the armor was. Garrus had to be strong if he wore it all the time—the thought of his _strength_ sent her back into last night, hot breath and half-murmured whispers. Yes, he certainly _had_ been strong, she thought with an absent smile and a blush that came easily, with no one around to witness it.

Her arms were straining in protest by the time she reached her cabin. The armor clattered to the floor outside of the bathroom and she sighed in relief.

The water was still running. Shepard smiled to herself. It was odd how comforting the sound was, the knowledge that a friend, a best friend, a lover, even, was here with her.

_Love-_r.

Her smile faded. Definitely not the time to think about that. In fact, maybe it would never be the time. The L-word made her nervous, as it did every time she considered it. But, over the past few months, as she and Garrus grew inexplicably and almost, it seemed, inexorably closer, imagining that maybe she was really falling in love sent a thrill through her unlike anything she'd ever experienced. And as fascinated as she was by it, she was . . . afraid, so afraid to even reconsider the possibility, to even allow herself the space to accept her feelings.

_Coward._

The shower stopped and her turian counterpart stepped out wet and squeaky-clean. He was clutching the measly towel she'd left him clumsily around his thin waist. Shooting her a glare when she laughed, he started picking up his armor, mumbling to himself. She was still shocked to feel her apprehension melt away when he smiled at her, even though she'd learned to half-expect it by now. Every time, it left her feeling both vulnerable and oddly strengthened by the relief it gave her.

"You okay, Shepard?"

"Huh?"

"You look like you swallowed something disgusting." Garrus was dressed by now, fastening the last buckles, watching her with an almost wary expression.

"I'm fine. Are you?" She expected a snarky retort, so when he hesitated, his arms falling limply to his sides, she noticed instantly. Slowly, meaningfully, she pressed the flat of her palm to the scars on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

"_Are_ you okay?" she asked very quietly, alarmed by his abrupt change in demeanor.

Garrus sighed and put a hand over hers, keeping it pressed to his face. When his eyes opened, they were brimming with emotion. "Shepard, I have to know something."

"Anything," she promised, and then instantly regretted it. What if he asked her if she loved him? _She_ didn't even know that yet. The idea of even attempting to express the complexity of her emotions was daunting, if not outright terrifying. While she panicked, he seemed to be calming himself down.

"I have to know," he continued softly, his voice low, "if this is something you want to . . . pursue."

"This?" she asked in a choked voice, knowing full well what he was referring to.

Giving her an exasperated look, he released her hand so that he could wind his arms around her and pull her close. "_This_," he clarified in a whisper, his voice tickling her ear.

She shivered. "Oh." Suddenly she felt very small, a young girl beneath her hard exterior. And in a way, she was. She'd never dealt with this sort of thing before. The closest comparison she had was her previous relationship with Kaidan, which had been more of a fling than anything else. But this, _this_, was something entirely new and different for her.

This was one area that the amazing Commander Shepard had never conquered.

Garrus waited patiently, brushing his hands comfortingly against the small of her back, his mandibles vibrating softly in her hair. He closed his eyes and memorized the feel and smell of her, the fragility of her as a human and her strength as a person, just in case she said no.

"Garrus?" she murmured, a little breathless from his touch.

"Mmm?" was his response, a deep rumble in the curve of her neck.

Her whisper was nearly inaudible from the abrupt dryness in her throat. "I'd like to stay with you."

Joy. Bliss. Pure, concentrated happiness, bursting through his veins, coursing through his blood, zinging in his chest as, for the very first time in his life, he gave himself over completely to his emotions. In a sudden fervor, he pulled her up into his arms and swung her around. Hearing her winded little chuckle, he clutched her to him as hard as he could without breaking her spine.

Locking her legs around his waist, Shepard pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. "I'm happy, too," she laughed. Her mouth abruptly twisted up into a grimace. "But if you call me 'baby' even once, I will happily tear you apart with my bare hands."

He shuddered. "I wouldn't dream of it, Shepard. I'll never use the word 'honey,' either."

"Ack!" she gasped. "We are avoiding, also, at all costs, any variation of the word 'sweetheart.'"

"Any nicknames involving food."

"Or desserts."

"_Especially_ desserts."

While she laughed, Garrus pursed his lips. "If we're knocking out any nicknames, it would be prudent, perhaps even expected, for me to know your first name."

She fell silent at once, eyes tightening defensively.

He chuckled. "I'm not asking for your deepest, darkest secret, Shepard –,"

"That _is_ my deepest, darkest secret," she interrupted with a snap.

He eyed her pointedly, and she sighed.

"We've been friends—best friends, according to you—for years now. And now that we've had intercourse –,"

"You shouldn't want anything more, because you are a male," she finished his sentence.

With a sigh, he dropped her to her feet. She landed with a grunt and glared at him. Wrapping his arms around her, he lowered his mouth to her ear again. "I would just like to know the first name of the fearless woman I spectacularly and violently serviced last night."

Oh, jeez. Her body heating up like a kettle, Shepard shook her head. "It's not a very good name for someone like me," she protested weakly. She inhaled sharply as he nibbled softly on her earlobe.

Smelling victory and quite enjoying his new weapon, Garrus pressed his lips to her throat. "No matter what it is, I will like it." Humming deep in his throat, he trailed a hand down the small of her back.

Shepard cursed and bit her lip. "My parents didn't know I would grow up to be a famous galactic hero," she babbled nervously. "They gave me a sweet, human girl name."

Garrus sighed deeply into her skin. "Just tell me, Shepard." His hands moved around to her hips, then up over her stomach to her breasts.

She hung her head in defeat as she shivered. "Allison," she mumbled acridly into his chest. "It's Allison."

He fell silent for a long moment.

"Oh, I knew I shouldn't have told you," she snapped angrily, pushing away from him.

"No," he said evenly, grabbing hold of her wrists before she could slip away. "It's a, ah, wonderful name."

Her eyes narrowed. "Garrus Vakarian, don't you lie to me," she said, her voice falling into its Commander-tone.

"All right, all right," he conceded with a laugh. "It's a horrible name for you, but it's _your_ name and because of that, I love it."

Ripping her arms free of his hold, she propped her fists onto her hips, widening her stance into a definitively commanding pose. "You are making fun of me."

"No, no," he insisted, but the smile on his face gave him away. "I would never."

With a scowl, she grabbed him by the arm, swung, twisted, and had him on his back in an instant. "For mocking a commanding officer, you will be _severely punished_," she claimed coldly.

A shiver travelled its traitor way up his spine. "Is that so?"

Leaning in close, she let her hand travel down to the junction between his legs. With a wicked smile, she whispered, "Oh, that is _so_ so."

He sighed and shook his head as his body reacted instantly. "I just got this all back on," he complained halfheartedly.

And then she was moving down his body, removing his pants, and suddenly her hands were very busy and he found himself completely forgetting how much of a pain it would be to dress himself when they were done.


	11. Stasis

**Sorry this is taking a while with chapters, you guys. It has been a _long_ time since I've worked on this story and I'm trying to pin down ideas at the moment. As of yet, I'm pretty sure I've got a good idea where I want to take this for now... nevertheless, wish me luck, I'm gonna need it ;)**

* * *

Shepard winced a little as she strode toward Joker's chair. The skin of her thighs had been thoroughly rubbed raw from her escapades with Garrus, and red lines from his talons decorated her skin all over. But even though it stung a little, it made her kind of happy to have them. They were evidence, little reminders of what was waiting for her once she got all her business done, and she hoped to always have them.

If they started fading . . . well, they'd just have to make them all over again now, wouldn't they?

"Morning, Commander," Joker greeted her tonelessly.

She was instantly suspicious. "Morning. How are things moving along?"

"Good, Commander. We've almost hit Omega, Commander."

Okay, now _definitely_ suspicious. "What's up with you, Joker?"

"Nothing, nothing!" he insisted, shaking his head a little too quickly. "Commander!" he added.

Shepard rolled her eyes and sashayed away. "Yeah, whatever. Act weird all you want, just don't get up to any funny business, all right?"

Joker exhaled sharply in relief, grinning to himself. "Seems like that's your job lately, Commander," he muttered under his breath with a chuckle, and he could swear he heard the faint sound of EDI sighing.

* * *

The woman sat with her legs crossed, eyes twinkling, at the bar in the very back of the Afterlife VIP area. She caught the bartender's gaze and kinked a finger, beckoning him over. Enchanted, he obeyed.

She spoke quietly, so that he had to lean in close to hear her.

"I bet if you treat everyone to a round of drinks," she murmured in a soft, throaty voice, "your business would double tonight."

He stood up straight again, thoroughly dazed. _What the hell_, he thought. _Worth a try._ He turned and cupped his mouth with his hands to amplify his voice. "Free round of drinks for everyone tonight!" he announced, and people of all species began to gravitate toward the bar. The last thing he saw before being swarmed with people was the woman's back as she walked away.

"Come on, baby, you can come back to my place."

"I said, leave me _alone_."

"It'll be fun! I promise."

"I'm a dancer, not a hooker!"

"Come on, don't be like that."

The woman seemed to come out of nowhere. One minute, he was crowding the asari against the wall on the dance floor, eyes greedily taking in the abundance of exposed skin on her body, the next he was on his back, a human in a cocktail dress looming over him with an absolutely murderous expression.

"Leave her alone," she hissed, voice flat with anger.

With a snarl, he got to his feet. "I was just inviting her back to my apartment. No harm done."

She glanced over her shoulder and the dancer fervently shook her head. Smiling wickedly, the human, in a blindingly fast movement, pulled back her fist and punched him right in the gut. He doubled over and fell to the floor, his vision turning white, the music suddenly too loud, hurting his head with its deep pulses.

"Thanks," he heard the dancer say. "Security was asleep."

"No problem."

The last thing he saw before passing out was the woman's back as she walked away.

"Hey. I'm Morinth. I've been watching you. You're the most interesting thing in this place."

Shepard fell back a little, doing her best to look allured. "Watching me, huh?"

"That's right. Why don't you join me in my booth?"

She trailed after the beautiful asari, casting glances all around the club, noting all exits and hoping that Samara knew what she was doing. They reached the booth and Shepard slid into the seat as sinuously as she could.

Morinth leaned back, throwing an arm casually over the back of the booth. Her legs crossed, eyes warm, she was the picture of ease. "Why is it that I feel somehow connected to you?"

Shepard smiled her best smile and ran her fingertips along the edge of the table, watching how Morinth's eyes followed the movement like a hawk before her prey. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm special."

The asari's gaze seemed to spark. "I think you are."

_God, what now?_ Shepard wracked her mind, scouring it for the clues they went over, and she fixed on one. "How do you like the music here?" she asked, making herself sound a little shy to give Morinth a bit of confidence as the upper hand.

It worked. The asari waved a hand ambiguously and cast her gaze around the club with a smile. "The heavy pounding of the drums, the deep pulses. . . . It appeals to the deepest, most primal urges in me."

Remembering the junkie at the door, Shepard dithered, seeming hesitant, and then asked, "Have you heard of a band called Expel 10?"

"Ah," Morinth sang, smiling more widely. "Their music calls to me in ways that I can't explain."

_Yes! _"Music is just a form of art, though," Shepard hinted, trying to swerve the conversation in that direction.

Morinth caught on, eyes twinkling. "Art. It has so many facets, don't you think?"

"My favorite artist is an elcor named Forta."

She blinked in surprise. "I hadn't thought anyone here knew of him. I am more than _ecstatic_," she emphasized the word, her tongue rolling sensually, "to hear I've found another fan."

"Well, I've travelled all over, heard of a lot of different artists."

"You've travelled, have you?" Morinth seemed to be testing her.

Shepard smiled. "Yes. To the darkest parts of the galaxy."

Her would-be suitor nodded lazily. "You learn things, when you travel, don't you? Powerful things."

"Power is something entirely different," Shepard replied easily. "And it, in and of itself, is its own reward."

Morinth leaned forward, swiftly covering Shepard's hand with her own. "You want to head back to my apartment? I want you alone."

They moved fluidly through the swerving bodies in the club. Garrus watched them from the corner of the bar, his stomach tightening uneasily. What if Samara didn't get there fast enough? He tried to calm himself with the fact that Shepard was strong, so strong, almost too strong, but he couldn't push away the worry he felt.

As if hearing his thoughts, Shepard sent him one long glance as if to say, "Stop worrying, you big baby," and the last thing he saw before he couldn't look anymore was Shepard's back as she walked away.

* * *

Morinth watched the human sweep around her apartment and eye the various pieces of art she'd collected over time. There was something about this female, something that was strong, and something stirred within her to kill the human, almost as if she were a threat. How silly that seemed, as the fragile little human stopped at her set of sparring blades, her back completely open and exposed.

Eventually the human stopped moving and settled down onto the couch beside her. "You're different than most humans," Morinth breathed, leaning in close.

"I know," she replied, her mouth curving up a tiny bit at one end into a smile.

Morinth laughed, loudly and freely, before putting a hand on the human's. "And yet you are so very like me."

"Well, we've both killed," she said in that infuriatingly calm voice.

A thrilling excitement leapt through Morinth, as the game became more complex. "Why do you say I've killed?" she demanded, nearly atop the human now. "What do you know about me?"

"I know that you're _dead_."

And then the door was flying across the room and Mother, of all people _Mother_, came striding into the room alight with biotic power, and Morinth was thrown back into the window with a hiss.

Shepard threw herself away from the battling asari and somersaulted onto her knees. Garrus sprinted into the room and slid to a stop beside her. He made to fuss over her, but Shepard held up a hand to stop him, her eyes never leaving the justicar.

"Hi, _Mother_."

"You are no child of mine," Samara said evenly, throwing a wave of energy at her daughter, who cried out.

"I can't help what I am, Mother! I can't help that you made me a monster!"

"You have done this to yourself, Morinth!" Samara roared. Morinth retaliated with her own biotic power, and chairs and pieces of art began to float around them in the air.

Shepard's entire body ached to stand beside Samara and assist her. It was a captain's obligation, no, _duty_, to keep her crew alive, and she'd grown to love Samara as much as everyone else. Seeing her struggle like this was heartbreaking. But Shepard knew, somewhere in her mind, that she could not interfere. Samara had been tracking Morinth down far too long to be robbed of this chance to take her down herself.

Morinth shouted in pain as she was forced onto the floor, and with one last surge of energy, Samara ended the long life of her Ardat-Yakshi daughter.

The last thing Morinth saw before she embraced eternity was that human woman's back . . . as she walked away.

* * *

"Shepard," Samara greeted her softly, the blue glow to her body fading as she rose from her meditation. Shepard settled awkwardly on the edge of one of the couches in the starboard observatory deck.

"Thank you for that opportunity," the old asari murmured, turning and unleashing the full power of those depthless eyes on her, thoroughly spooking her. "Now that I have undone the curse I have made, I may be at peace to go through with your suicide mission." She allowed herself a brief, mirthless smile, though her demeanor had become, undoubtedly, more peaceful.

"It was no problem," Shepard replied wholeheartedly.

"Also, I must thank you for something else." Samara turned forward and gazed out into "the great void," as she liked to call it. "When I fought Morinth, I sensed your urge to join our battle and assist me. It greatly touched me, though it frightened me, and when I realized that you were resolved _not_ to help, I was moved all the more. You see," she continued in that same light tone, "it is dictated in the Code that if I am assisted in battle, I cannot truly claim victory. Should you have helped me to kill Morinth, I would never have been at peace." She finally looked back up at Shepard, who was breathing as quietly as possible so she didn't interrupt. "You, who have no knowledge of the Code, have essentially fallen into line with it and helped me find peace."

A long moment of silence, during which Shepard scrambled to find the right words to reply.

"I guess," she began distractedly, staring down at her hands. "I spent my whole life fighting my own battles. I can tell when it's time for someone to fight theirs."

"Wisdom beyond your age, Shepard," Samara observed with a smile, a kinder, warmer one this time. "I wonder how it will serve you in your lifetime."

"Hopefully well," she remarked, gaining some of her personality back. "And hopefully soon."

* * *

Shepard downed big gulps of her coffee, savoring the dark taste of it. She leaned back in her seat and kicked her feet up onto the table, thinking about Samara, how she was trapped in her justicar's Code, and yet how she had found so much peace in it, in taking the life of her daughters. She decided she herself would make a terrible asari, let alone a justicar.

Footsteps made her look up and Tali joined her at the table. Minding her manners, Shepard dropped her feet and gifted her quarian friend with a big grin.

"I see you're looking happy," Tali said, casually. Too casually.

Shepard's smile disappeared and her eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing."

"You're working with him, aren't you? Cripes, I can't trust you two with anything! I can't do anything with one without the other instantly knowing! "

Tali was already laughing as Shepard fumed. "I actually did not know that you 'did' anything with Garrus at all."

"Oh." Her brow furrowed and she cursed herself. "Damn it. You quarians are tricky, you know that?"

Tali waved that away. "So? How did things go?"

"Er."

"Come on, Shepard," Tali groaned, shaking her head. "How long are you going to hide from yourself? You know you feel strongly for him; otherwise you would not have let yourself get so carried away."

Jeez, she was observant. Pulling anxiously at her collar, Shepard muttered, "What _don't_ you see, Tali?"

An impatient sigh was her only response.

Shepard looked down at her hands, spread out on the table's surface. "I suppose I do like him a lot. With Kaidan I knew . . . I knew that it wasn't going to work. But I don't know anything now." She lifted her head and her eyes were desperate. "I have no idea whatsoever what to do."

"Do you think you are in love?"

She openly shuddered. "I don't even know the word 'love.' Tali, I'm scared of that word. I'm scared that I'm too screwed up to know how to love."

Tali was already shaking her head. "You're wrong, Shepard. I think you will surprise yourself." She got up from the table. "Anyways, I have some calibrations to work on, and Garrus will be very cross if I don't have them done by tonight."

"Hey, wait. We were talking," Shepard protested.

"I'm sorry, but I have work to do!" Tali called, already turning the corner to the elevator. "Goodbye, Shepard!"

She grumbled angrily to herself about "traitor quarians" and "loudmouth turians" and, cursing manners to the deepest pits of hell, put her feet back up on the table and left them there.

* * *

"But Garrus," Tali complained. "She cares very deeply for you."

"No. I don't want to talk about it," he grunted. "Go away, Tali!"

She humphed. "But _I_ want to talk about it."

"Then talk to someone _else_ about it. Wait. No, I take that back. Talk to _no one_ about it."

Sighing angrily, Tali started to talk again but he ended their conversation with a loud beep of the comm unit. With a relieved groan, he sank to the floor of the main battery. It was getting late, and he was getting ready to bunker down for some sleep when the doors opened.

Shepard stood over him with her hands on her hips, a frown on her face. Her expression brightened the instant she saw him, and she smiled almost nervously. "Hey, Garrus."

"Hi," he said, climbing back to his feet.

"Since we are adults," she said, articulating too clearly and formally in her anxiety, "and we are currently attached to one another, I wondered if you would sleep in the captain's cabin. With me."

He smiled, little fluttery feelings flurrying around in his stomach. She was . . . _cute_. _Shepard _was_ cute_. For fear of her wrath, he decided to never voice that thought aloud as he nodded and made to follow her to the elevator.

"First thing's first," she said abruptly, and pushed him back into the main battery. He fell back against the console with a grunt of surprise. As soon as the doors closed, Shepard was kneeling in front of him, already halfway through the fastenings on his pants.

"Shepard, what –,"

"Shh," she ordered, her voice burning. In seconds she had divested him of his pants and was smiling crookedly up at him. "Just lie back and think of England."

"What is England?" he gasped, and then her hands closed around his length.

Ever so slowly, she took him into her mouth, each ridge giving softly under her lips as each inch of him passed into her mouth. His hips bucked immediately in response as she worked. His console let out a sharp _bing_ noise as he received a message. "Ah, Shepard . . ."

"Mmm-mmn," she hummed around him, making him hiss in pleasure. Deciding whatever message he'd received was in no way more important than this, he let his talons gently rake through her hair to hold her head in place. She moaned in encouragement.

There was nothing more beautifully flexible or talented in the galaxy than the human tongue, Garrus decided. She ran her tongue up his length, around the tip of his shaft, her lips moving easily and firmly around him. Gasping for breath, he found he needed to lean on his console for support. Another _bing_ sounded behind him and he groaned in frustration.

Shepard released him and got to her feet, much to his disappointment. But she immediately started pulling her own clothes off.

_Oh._ He liked where this was going. He set to undressing himself as well and once they were both good and naked, she was propped up on his console, her legs spread wide, and he slid into her.

They both let out guttural sounds of pleasure. His talons curved around her hips as he drove into her, her back arching eagerly into him. She cried out his name and he buried his face into her neck. He wanted it so bad, to just sink his teeth into the plane of her shoulder, to claim her as his, finally and forever, feel her become submissive, taste her blood. His shoulders were hard as rock beneath her hands as he barely restrained himself from marking her.

Shepard's fingernails dug into his back as he pumped into her, her moans becoming more frantic until finally she let out a desperate cry and threw her head back as her core tightened around him. His talons sharp against the small of her back, he managed one more thrust before he reached his climax as well.

Once every last flutter of pleasure had rocked through him, he lowered his face into her shoulder with a sigh.

"Wow," she whispered breathlessly, chuckling a little. "Ready for bed now?"

He laughed. "I think so. But this time I'm bringing my clothes."

"Good idea."


	12. Don't Let Me Go

Something about today's mission had Shepard all jazzed up. Maybe it was the fierce lovemaking she'd had last night—all four rounds. Maybe it was the chance to retrieve the IFF that would help them get through the Omega 4 Relay. Either way, she was positively bouncing as she sprinted forward, swinging her pistol forward and blasting a husk right between the eyes with unnecessary flourish.

"Showing off again, Shepard?" Grunt rumbled happily beside her. He used his big fists to send a husk flying down onto its back, lifted his leg, and crushed the thing's skull beneath his massive foot.

Garrus winced from his higher vantage point, where his sniper rifle was more effective. "Who's showing off now, krogan? You could've just shot it," he called down to them.

"Yes, but where's the fun in that!"

With a sigh, the turian popped off a shot that nailed an abomination husk right in the middle of its chest. Shepard threw herself backward as it exploded, taking down another husk beside it. From where she'd slid onto the ground, she shot down the last husk with a brilliant laugh. Its body sunk to the ground with a dull _thud_. Minding his manners—at least the ones that the tank had taught him—Grunt helped his comrade up off of the ground by the collar of her armor.

"Oof," she grunted as he dropped her onto her feet. "Thanks, Grunt. Ready, Garrus?"

Shoving the last new thermal clip into his rifle, he lifted his head and nodded. Once he had jogged down to meet them, they rounded the corner. Shepard stopped them with a lift of her hand and quickly scanned the room. Down a few steps was a long, wide bridge with two parallel pathways toward the end, joining together and leading to a huge door. Crates and boxes were stacked here and there, along with a few terminals. Obviously this used to be where Chandana's team had worked.

They heard the loud _pop_ of a rifle sounding and then the bullet sinking into flesh—right beside Shepard's head. She spun and watched a husk drop to the ground. Turning back, she could barely make out the shape of a dark body scuttling off into the distance, the big door sliding closed behind it.

"Whoever the hell that was," she said, proud of how solid her voice was, despite the proximity of the shot, "they obviously don't want to hurt us. So we'd better worry about getting to the other side of this room. Garrus, I want you to set up on this crate here," she ordered, her voice deep with its authoritative ring, pointing to a dark box beside them. "Cover Grunt and I as we move forward. There's bound to be more of these fuckers, and you work best long-distance." Rather unceremoniously, she pulled back her shitkicker and punted the husk behind her.

"Of course, Shepard," Garrus acknowledged, kneeling down and resting his rifle on the crate. Once he was set up, he nodded.

"Let's go, Grunt." The two of them surged forward on either edge of the stairway. A wild, high roar sounded, and then the bodies began to crawl out of the floor, their eyes and chests alight with those blue, glowing patterns. Shepard had switched her pistol for her assault rifle, and her barrage of bullets was downing just as many of the blue once-humans as Grunt's wide shotgun. A loud squeaking noise alerted them to two scions limping their way around the two parallel pathways.

"Cover me!" Shepard hissed back to Garrus, sliding into a little niche in a few crates. She pulled out her particle beam and aimed it forward, but the damn thing was quickly running out of juice. It got about halfway through the first scion's armor before dying. Shoving it aside with a curse, she swung forward an arm and let loose a ball of fire that burst against the damn scion's skin. It let loose a cry of pain and crumpled to the floor.

The other was still approaching, its armor full. It lifted an arm and sent forward a rolling burst of energy that hit her even behind her crate. She was sent flying backward, slamming into a stack of boxes behind her.

"Shepard!" Grunt yelled, tearing through another husk.

"I'm fine!" she groaned, rolling back onto her feet and wiping a drop of blood from her mouth. A blue glow surrounded her as she created extra barriers for herself and pulled out her assault rifle again. Staying in continuous motion, especially when the scion lifted it arms again, her constant spray of bullets managed to bring its armor all the way down. With one last gust of incineration energy, the last scion dropped to the floor beside its twin. Simultaneously, Grunt blasted down two husks with his shotgun and Garrus cleared the last stragglers by the door.

"All clear, Shepard," his voice noted smugly through the comm unit in her armor.

"Good job," she panted, cautiously poking along the back of her head to check for any serious injury. Once she was satisfied that she would survive the rest of the mission and Garrus had joined them, she signaled her squad forward.

The next room was even larger. A long runway led to a terminal, with two lower plateaus on either side of it, connected by a few stairways. Behind the terminal hung a huge ball of energy that had to be the main core.

The dark body she'd seen was collapsed on the ground in front of the terminal.

"Geth," she whispered in shock. "It's geth."

"I say we destroy it," Grunt suggested, a little too eagerly.

She rolled her eyes. "You want to destroy _everything_. We'll decide that later. Look."

More husks were emerging from the ground.

"Go!" she shouted, and they all made a mad dash for the end of the runway. Shepard focused on destroying the main core while her squad covered her. When it closed up again, like a big, blue eye behind metal eyelids, she turned around and helped her squad. In this routine, she eventually took out the main core. It collapsed with a loud creaking noise, and then a huge crash.

"Grunt, pick up that geth. We're getting out of here!"

"You want to keep it?" he called over the wild moaning of the husks, hoisting the limp body over his shoulder.

"We can space it later!" she cried as the squad retreated from the room, her voice barely audible between the splatter of gunfire and the low, trembling voices of the husks.

The way back to the shuttle remained, providentially, clear of enemies. With one of Grunt's arms occupied, along with all of them exhausted, sweaty, and running out of thermal clips, it would have been hell fighting their way back. It had been hell enough getting to the damn core.

Grunt was the first onto the shuttle, dropping the geth onto the floor with a snort. With an impatient nod from his commander, Garrus went after. He was halfway into the shuttle, one leg hoisted up onto the step, when Shepard heard the soft moan and slow shuffle of a body behind her.

It all happened so fast then.

She whirled around and saw the scion about fifteen feet away, her brain just barely registering that it was _different _. . . its color a bright red in lieu of the normal blue and black. That thought was chased from her mind as it lifted its heavy, short arms and swung them back down in one swift movement. The explosion of energy thundered across the ground, aimed straight at Garrus.

Several thoughts swarmed through her head, one the strongest of them all, standing out as if it were written in neon and screaming her name:

_Not him._

"No!" she screamed. With all of her remaining strength, she threw herself in front of him just as he was turning to look over his shoulder. The powerful burst hit her square in the chest, knocking both her and Garrus back into the shuttle. Grunt quickly slammed his fists against the shuttle door and they were off like a bullet, soaring away from the planet's surface.

"Shepard? Shepard!"

Her eyes were clenched shut, teeth bared and gritted together. Sweat coated her skin, which was pale as a sheet. Her armor was greatly damaged, scarred across her belly and darkened around the lacerations. It began to sizzle where the scion had hit her, the dark maroon material just evaporating into smoke.

Garrus frantically began to pull open her armor. His trembling hands fumbled a bit with the small buckles, but eventually he tore the damn armor away from her body. Ripping open her white undershirt, which was now stained with blood, he finally exposed her torso.

In the area right beneath her bra, her skin, normally so perfect, porcelain, smooth, was turning an awful shade of blue, the flesh tinged darker like a big bruise.

"No," he mouthed, too horrified to summon the strength to speak.

Her eyes suddenly popped open, and her hands flew to her stomach. Peeling back her lips, she let out a scream so high, so shrill and fierce and smoldering, that it was impossible to interpret it as anything but a sound of agony. Her body began to convulse and shake, arching away from his hands, rolling up into a ball. Her fingers scratched feverishly at the skin of her stomach, now a sickly black color.

"Shepard, _stop!_" Garrus grabbed her hands and pinned them to his chest, doing his best to keep her from hurting herself as she thrashed against the cold, metal floor of the shuttle. "Grunt, _help_!"

The krogan immediately grabbed her shoulders and held them down against the floor. Garrus used one knee to keep her legs down. Her torso arched desperately against their holds, as if seeking an escape from the pain.

"Kill me, just _kill me!_" she screamed. Her eyes rolled back into her head. When they managed to refocus, she aimed them at Garrus.

The agony he saw in them was like no pain he'd ever experienced. Being disowned by his father, losing his men to Sidonis . . . that was all _nothing_ to this. Hearing that Shepard had died had been agonizing, but _this_, seeing her writhe and shriek in pain. . . . His heart stopped, for a moment, in his chest.

"What the hell's happening to her?" He turned desperately to Grunt.

"I don't know! That was no ordinary scion," Grunt said, his normal humor completely sapped from his voice as Shepard fought against his hands. "But Shepard is no ordinary woman. She will survive this. I can smell her strength."

Her hands scrabbled against the hard plates of Garrus's armor, struggling to find a hold there. Harsh, gasping breaths raked through her teeth as she tried to keep pushing oxygen into her lungs. "Garrus," she rasped hoarsely.

"Shh, Shepard, don't," he urged, clasping her hands tighter between his. "Don't try to speak. Please, spirits, we're going to help you."

Her deep blue eyes were wide open in panic. They slowly began to close, her body easing its thrashing. "Don't . . . don't let me die, okay?" she pleaded, her rough voice nearly inaudible now.

"_No_, Shepard," he growled, letting go of her hands so he could hold her face and force her to look at him. "Don't stop fighting, Shepard!" he shouted, shaking her head between his hands.

Her body was completely limp beneath his now. It was so dark. She was so sleepy. God, it was getting so hard to stay awake. Why did she have to again? What was the point? She'd forgotten. She just knew she was so cold, and if she fell asleep she'd be warm. She would never be hungry or sad or have to fight anymore. God, wouldn't that be so nice? And then she heard it, as if it were at the end of a tunnel but growing louder, annoyingly loud, _too loud_, right in her ears. . . .

"SHEPARD!"

That voice. She knew that voice. Whose voice?

_Garrus's voice._

"Don't you dare let go of me, Shepard!"

God, she loved that voice.

_I'd never let go of you_, she tried to say. Jeez, it was hard to speak. Surely Garrus wouldn't mind if she just took a nap for a while.

_No, Shepard! _a little voice in her head screamed. _You'll never wake up!_

Her brow furrowed in frustration. But the pain is so bad. Just one little nap . . . certainly she deserved it by now.

_You would do that to him, then. You would just leave him behind. You've already done that once, you selfish bitch. _

"Shepard, damn it! Stay with me!"

Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped. As anticipated, the pain came rushing back, a fire burning in her stomach, roaring against the insides of her, raging beneath her skin as it polluted her bloodstream and greedily began to take over her body.

"_God_," she bit out, gripping Garrus's arm tightly beneath her hands with a sudden strength.

"Oh, thank the spirits," he gasped, pulling her up off of the floor and into his arms. "Thank the spirits. Thank God. Thank anyone. Please, Shepard, please. Just hold on a little longer."

As he pleaded desperately for anyone to listen, Shepard lowered her face into the crook of his neck. She had no energy left.

She promised the voice in her head that she wouldn't sleep, but she begged, wished, for some kind of peace to survive the pain.

_Wish granted_, the voice murmured softly, and a blanket of warmth fell over her. The pain lessened, allowing her body to slump completely against Garrus's chest. "You'll stay with me?" she whispered in a tiny, pained voice.

"I will," he promised, and there were tears in his voice. "Spirits, Shepard. You can't leave me again."

"I won't," she sighed, and then she heard the sound of the shuttle grinding to a halt inside of the Normandy.

They'd made it.

She'd done it.

"You're welcome," she managed to mutter, and then everything seemed to disappear as the pain came again.

* * *

Garrus paced back and forth in the debriefing room, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

"Garrus, please," Tali pleaded gently, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged her off and continued his rounds, a low growl constant in his throat.

"We have to think about what we're going to do," Miranda said, her normal leader's bravado dampened by their mutual concern. "If Shepard dies –,"

"No!" Garrus roared, his entire body beginning to tremble in its urge to attack. Just the _thought _of her leaving, passing away, it made his body lose control of itself. He spun and aimed the endless burning in his gaze at the Cerberus operative. "She's going to survive!"

Miranda paused, reassessing the situation. Every crew member was gathered there save for Mordin, and every one of them was staring at Garrus.

"We _have_ to sort these things out," she said, her voice strengthening. "I don't want her to die any more than you do, but this is a mission we're on."

"I can't even talk about this!" he yelled, throwing his hands up. Tali cried out his name, but before she could reach him he was gone, the doors closing shut behind him, the normal _shick_ sound seeming extra loud in the silence of the room.

* * *

Shepard opened her eyes again, only to see . . . the color white. Lots of it. Hell, the only thing she could _see_ was the color white. She didn't even have a shadow in this damned place, wherever the hell it was. She had the vague feeling that it wasn't a physical location, instead some sort of near-death-experience, movie kind of crap inside of her head.

Great.

At least the pain was gone.

She looked down and picked at her clothes, a torn bra and tattered armor pants. Jeez. And her stomach . . . oh, my God, her stomach. The black stain was still there, festering, throbbing and threatening to grow.

"Hey, Shepard."

She whirled with a gasp, falling into a defensive stance, her hands out.

Ashley was watching her with her normal crooked smile and white and pink armor. One hand hitched on her hip, she called, "Always the soldier, huh? That's okay. That's why I always followed you anyways."

"Ash," Shepard breathed, straightening. She moved forward, slowly, afraid that with any sudden movement the image would disappear. When she stood just a foot away from her old gunnery chief, she held out a tentative hand and, with the lightest of touches, pressed it to Ashley's cheek.

Soft skin, warm beneath her fingertips.

"Oh, God."

"Yeah, it's me." With her normal cheeky grin, Ashley pulled her old commander into a hug. "I've missed you, Shepard. But I've had my eye on you. You've been busy, haven't you?"

"I guess you could say that," Shepard answered, feeling raw and numb inside. If she were here with Ashley, then surely that meant she'd died, too. More than anything, more than regret or even sadness, was a raging anger, growing into a full-out fury.

"Whoa, now," Ash cautioned, pulling away and taking a step back. "Calm down, Shepard."

"But . . . I . . . died," she bit out in jointed, cold words, "in the _stupidest_ fucking way."

Ashley raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? I exploded in my own bomb."

Shepard brought up a hand and squeezed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Yeah," she managed to say, "but you sacrificed yourself for humanity. I got hit by a fucking scion."

"But you did it to save him," Ashley countered softly. "Also, you're not dead."

Silence. In this odd, windless, white-washed place, Shepard's anger slowly receded. She let her hand fall away and looked up at Ashley, those big brown eyes and sideways smile.

"I'm telling the truth. You're not."

"Then . . ."

"How are you with me?" She shrugged. "Like _I_ know." Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "So you're really with Garrus, huh?"

Shepard sighed and lowered herself into a sitting position, her legs crossed in front of her and her head falling into her hands. "Yeah." She rubbed her eyes and lifted her head again to look back up at Ashley, who had mimicked her position across from her. "Is he okay? Do you know?"

"He's fine," she assured her, brow furrowing in concern. "He's very worried about you. You're not dead, but you're dying, Shepard."

"I kinda figured." Barely restraining her horror, she lightly touched the skin of her stomach. It was stone cold.

"Stop that, you'll make it worse," Ashley snapped, like a wary mother.

"Were you the voice in my head?"

She rolled her eyes. "Duh. And now I'm a body in your head. Kinda crazy, huh? How far we've come." She looked out, into the vast expanse of pure white. Abruptly the horizons began to stretch and melt, molding into a scene that shocked her to her very core.

A man and a woman, standing in the darkness over a white crib. The baby inside slumbered deeply, lips bright pink between chubby cheeks, red hair sprouting in from her ivory skin. The man, dark-haired, tall, thin, put an arm around the red-haired woman beside him and murmured something in her ear. She turned to him with a smile and tears in her eyes and buried her face into his shoulder.

Shepard was trembling. Getting to her feet, she moved forward until she was standing just next to the embracing couple, until she could see every plane of the man's face as he spoke gently in the woman's ear.

"Dad," she breathed, the word seeming to be wrenched from her lips and lingering in the air like fog, clouding her vision. Or were those tears? She didn't care. She reached out a very hesitant hand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Ashley cautioned from behind her.

_I don't care_.

The second her fingertips made contact with her father's shoulder—which gave way like a cloud beneath them—the scene was pulled away, rushing off into the distance and being quickly replaced by another.

They were now watching a small, red-headed girl hide behind a stack of boxes with her heart pumping madly in her chest, holding a makeshift blade in her hand that looked to be made out of stone.

The girl's eyes were closed, tears running down the dirty skin of her cheeks, leaving clean paths in their wake. Her clothes were tattered and torn, and looked to be too big for her anyways.

_That's right. They'd been my father's._

Something must have scared the girl, because she slid down onto the ground and hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face into her kneecaps. Her shoulders were quivering in fear as she clung to her legs for dear life.

The scene changed, the girl soaring away, replaced by an older, harder young woman, red hair clipped short to her head, eyes the dark blue of someone who had seen true horrors. She stood before someone else, unidentifiable as the image was blurry, her hand perpendicular to her forehead in a salute. The woman marched away with all the purpose of a wrecking ball, eyes dark and shoulders high with discipline. That's right. A life of discipline. Of pain and loss.

She disappeared and was replaced once more.

This woman was much easier to recognize. Red hair grown out and pinned back in a bun, face twisted into an expression of agony as she pulled someone's body through what looked like a horrible wreckage. Her teeth bared in effort, straining, it seemed, against both physical pain and fear, the woman pulled the person's arm onto her shoulder and powered forward.

Another scene.

The woman's body floating, her hands scrabbling desperately at her throat, eyes widening in agony. Her body turned and arched as she struggled to breathe, legs kicking, and then she stilled entirely and her body was lifted away and the scene changed once more.

_That must be me. Oh, God._

A body, scorched and almost unrecognizable, lay stretched out on an operating table as several medical machines swerved in and out of the tissues of her body, repairing, rebuilding. The image faltered, and then disappeared altogether.

Shepard, frozen on her feet, slumped and fell to the side, barely catching herself on her hands. She looked up to Ashley with pain and confusion in her eyes.

"You see? You've been through worse." The gunnery chief gestured out into the once-again empty space around them. "You remember all of these things. You've lost everyone, more than once. You learned to rely on yourself. You don't think you can survive this, but you _can_."

Shepard was shaking her head, her hands knotting in her hair and pulling at the strands there. "No! I died once already. I'm just as fucking mortal as anyone else," she groaned into her forearms.

"Shut up," Ashley ordered, her voice harsh, eyes narrowed. "You're giving up on yourself, Shepard! I didn't get fried for you to give up now, damn it. Go back to him. You're strong, so go fucking prove it."

She leaned forward, one hand outstretched. And, ignoring when Shepard flinched away from her, she held out a finger and pressed it to her commander's forehead.

"Oh, and Shepard?" she said, as everything started to fade around them. She turned and looked into those big, brown eyes. "Go easy on Kaidan. He really did love you for a bit there."

The pain was starting to swell in her stomach again. Shepard clutched her knees to her chest and bit her lip to keep from crying out.

"Behave, Shepard! I'll be watching you."

A ghostly, familiar chuckle.

And then everything went black once more.


	13. Between Two Points

**Okay, guys - there are no excuses. I am so sorry this has taken so long. Hopefully I'll be getting back into the swing of things with this story. Revelation has taken all of my attention away, damn it, but with Mass Effect 3 solidifying into a reality in, oh, 9 months or so, I've gotten pulled back into this story. You have my sincerest apologies at the delay. Thank you _EVERYONE_ for the wonderful reviews! You guys are amazing and I couldn't do it without your support! Thank you thank you thank you!**

**

* * *

**

"She's coming back! Call Mordin Solus!"

"Dr. Chakwas, you're bleeding!"

"_Go get Mordin!_" Two warm, human hands, rough in their desperation, pumping at her chest.

"My God, she's breathing!"

"Move," a high, quick voice ordered. Whoever was touching her stomach was shoved away, and something small, round, and cold was pressed to the skin of her belly.

"Please let this work," the voice begged, and then there was a loud _pop_ and a sharp, exploding pain in her stomach, one much different from the one that was already there. Instead of that slow, boiling burn, this was quick and cool and metallic.

"OW!" Shepard shouted, her eyes popping open. She tried to sit up, her chest heaving as she struggled to drag breaths through her dry lips.

Dr. Chakwas, Kenneth, and now Mordin were leaning over her body, their faces alight with hope.

"Stay down, Shepard," Dr. Chakwas ordered, pressing a hand against her shoulder to keep her down.

Mordin turned and set something down—my God, was that a _gun_?

"Did you just _shoot_ me?" Shepard demanded, her voice shooting up an octave in her horror.

"Not with normal gun. Dart gun. Special chemical in bullet," he reassured her.

Her eyes made it clear that all the reassuring in the world wasn't going to work right now.

But Mordin was smiling. "Look."

She obeyed, her gaze falling down to her stomach. She inhaled sharply as the black shadow began to slowly recede from her stomach. The agony was already disappearing, save for the sharp pain from the injection—_that_ she could handle. Before her very eyes, the blackness grew smaller and smaller, fading like ink from a page until there was nothing left.

"Oh, God," Shepard whispered, and tears burned behind her eyes. "You . . . it's gone." She pressed her hand flat against her stomach, where only a dull blue bruise remained from the impact of the hit, and a tiny red circle from the shot. "I'm not going to die." She looked back up at him. "What did you shoot me with?"

"Little experiment I've been working on. Irritating how Harbinger can possess any collector drone. With this chemical, can prevent possession and save from wasting bullets on Harbinger's extra barriers."

He'd made it about halfway through his proud explanation when she broke down, slumping forward and covering her face as the sobs wracked through her body. "Th-thank you," she gasped through the heaves.

The doors slid open, and then _his_ body was taking up the entire doorway, and all she could see were his eyes, those glinting chips of blue ice, and she was in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against hers and his breath ragged in her ear. He was still covered in her blood and she didn't care as she clung to him and he held onto her as if she would disappear if he let go.

He knew quite well that she probably wouldn't. But damn him to hell, he wasn't going to take any chances. He pulled away just enough to look at her stomach and gasped.

"Just bruising," she explained in a watery voice.

"It's gone," he breathed. "Gone." He held his hand above the skin there as if to touch her, but couldn't bring himself to make actual contact.

"Mordin fixed me. I'm not going to die. I'm not gonna die," she murmured over and over again as she felt herself fade.

"Never," he said fiercely, and drew her to his chest again. "Never again."

"Never," she mumbled.

"_Promise me_," he growled darkly.

"I _promise_." A mangled sigh.

"I don't believe you."

"Mmmm. I love you," she whispered, hoping he could understand as sleep threatened to overtake her. "More than anything."

He didn't move for a very long moment. And then, softly, slowly, he fluttered his mandibles against her cheek. "That . . . I will believe."

* * *

She drifted in and out of consciousness. Every now and then she would open her eyes, and through a dream-sequence-like blur she would spot the occasional face, soft features drifting through exhaustion and darker, more painful images. Throughout all this floating, this painful, dim dreaming, she would always see those bright blue circles watching her, anchors of hope and love and care.

And then, suddenly, they were gone. Desperately, she searched for them, but it was all to no avail. They disappeared and never came back.

So when she finally mustered up the strength and courage to wake up and found the power to speak, she woke up screaming.

* * *

The comm unit in his helmet beeped once more, and with a curse Garrus peeled the damned thing from his head and tossed it into the far corner of the shuttle. It landed with a sharp clatter. The place still reeked of her blood, a hot, sharp, metallic smell thick in his nose.

It was the thirteenth time Joker had tried to contact him.

The shuttle careened for Palaven. He stared down at his knuckles, white as chalk from his firm grip on his knees. His eyes closed and he fell back against the wall as the shuttle landed roughly on the hot, desert-like Palaven surface. It grinded finally to a stop, his body jerking in one last, final movement.

There was a long moment of stillness, the only sound the crackling of dirt against the shuttle's exterior.

"We have arrived, Officer Vakarian," EDI informed him in a subdued voice. "Shepard has reached a brief consciousness in the Normandy's medical –,"

"_No_," he growled fiercely, and the AI instantly fell silent. "Thank you," he added stiffly as the shuttle doors slid open and he got to his feet. "No one needs to know where I went," he added over his shoulder, grabbing his helmet.

"Noted, Officer Vakarian," EDI answered softly, and then the shuttle doors were closing and the vehicle was taking off. He watched it go until it disappeared completely into the planet's atmosphere and he could see it no more.

He turned back to the dry dirt of his home planet, to the many turians who had stopped to watch his arrival, many of whom recognizing him with mouths agape. With a deep breath, he pulled his helmet back on and took his first step toward the old life he'd hated.

The words from her message still rang in his mind, stinging with each forceful repetition.

_The treatments aren't working, Garrus. _

_She probably won't make it._

_You need to come home._

_

* * *

_

Shepard opened her eyes, exhaling slowly through her nose in one, long breath. The pain in her stomach was reduced to a dull throb, nothing intolerable, a bit of bruising on her back and a sharp laceration on her chest from the dart gun. The medical bay was dark and she could hear the sound of someone else in the room, even, slow breathing that indicated sleep.

She twitched her right arm and felt the IV connected there, scowling with disapproval. Her left hand came up and briefly touched the oxygen tube beneath her nostrils. She pulled it loose, sighing once her face was free.

There was a stand beside the bed holding some dark blue liquid that was presumably being filtered into her body. She tensed up, needing a minute to convince herself that Chakwas knew what she was doing and she wasn't being slowly poisoned. Gritting her teeth against what was sure to be a new influx of pain, Shepard rolled up into a sitting position.

Pain indeed, a hot stab of it in her stomach. It passed in the longest minute of her life and she shuddered in relief once it was through. Something was off, though. She paused, completely still, holding her breath, and realized that the sleeping person had woken up—the breathing was no longer there. She shot her head up and scanned the room.

"Shepard. You're up." Thane got smoothly to his feet, smiling at her. "We were very worried about you."

"Me, too," she admitted, resting her back against the wall and sighing as she cracked her neck. The drell chuckled and gently took hold of her arm, beginning to pull her IV out. Shepard winced, but didn't protest as he stuffed the materials away and released her newly free arm.

"You certainly know what you're doing," she whispered as he even folded up the stand and threw away the pack of liquid.

He laughed, glancing amusedly at her. "I, too, am sick."

"Shit, that's right," she realized, feeling mortified. "Sorry. You're so lively, I always forget, you know?"

"I couldn't possibly hold that against you, siha." He brushed a lock of sweat-moist hair from her face and she chanced a half-hearted smile. It didn't take someone who'd known her as long as Tali to see the worry in her eyes.

"I do not know where he has gone, siha," Thane confessed in a pained voice, hating the horror that quickly became evident in her expression. His hand balled into a fist beside her cheek. He stuffed it against his side, not wanting to alarm her further.

Shepard merely sighed, ducking her face into her hands. "I guessed as much," she muttered, her voice muffled into her palms. "I could just tell he was gone. I could _tell_."

"After being so close to somebody for so long . . ." Thane touched her shoulder, making her look up. The pain in her eyes made him sick to his stomach. "Do you wish to find him?"

She surprised him—as she had the tendency to do, really—with a shock of laughter, the light peals beautiful in the quiet of the room. "Oh, you bet your sweet drell ass I do. He's not getting off that easy. It had to be something important if he just up and split while I was on what could have been my deathbed. Help me up." She flung her arms out, which he caught with a wry smile. He pulled a thin arm over his shoulder and helped her slide her legs over the side of the cot. After allowing her a moment to catch her breath, Thane took a careful step and, ready or not, Shepard went with him.

"Ooh, thank you," she groaned, palming her stomach with a grimace. She was glad Thane knew what it was to be ailing; she knew Garrus would have picked her up and insisted on carrying her. She didn't blame him for it—it was kind of sweet, in his weird, protective sort of way. God, she was going to miss –

_Okay, this is getting depressing._ With a sigh, she straightened her shoulders and took a few tentative steps. After making sure she was good, she turned to Thane with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Thane. Who knew a big, bad drell assassin could be so tender."

Thane shook his head and chuckled, ever the gentleman even in response to her immature teasing. "I do have a son, siha. One must learn some patience with children."

"Children! Oh, you're gonna get it once I get my rogue turian back," she warned playfully, charging out of the med bay.

"Me and my 'sweet drell ass?'"

"_Especially_ that sweet drell ass."

* * *

The door was pulled open with one jerking movement, the angry female within looking up with a sneer. "Who the hell knocks at this time of – Garrus?"

"Solana," he breathed, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into his arms. She returned the tight embrace, shuddering openly in his hold.

"You came back." She squeezed his shoulders, letting loose a very uncharacteristic sob that shattered his heart. "I can't beli – she'll be so happy!" she cried, tumbling over her words.

"That's what I intended," he muttered, his tone hard. She pulled away and peered up at him, confused.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes and no. Happy to see you," he replied, deflecting.

She waved that away, scowling now. "Tell me. What's wrong? Besides the problems with _her_."

Garrus sighed and looked away, letting go of Solana and rubbing the back of his neck. "It's . . . I left somebody behind. That's all."

She searched his face for more, but could find nothing indicative in his expression. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the house with half of a sad smile. "You'll have to tell me how you got those scars." She touched the side of his face with a chiding expression.

He smiled, latching onto the subject change with relief. "It's a long story. You'd better get some drinks out."

* * *

"Miranda, get me some suits ready for hot weather, I'm pretty sure I know where he went. EDI, recheck the coordinates on that shuttle just in case—don't you interrupt me, I don't care what he told you, my orders trump his and you know it. Joker, quit dickin' around up there, I can hear you singing, and I need you to get ready to sail us to wherever in hell that stupid turian took off to! Everybody else, stay the _fuck_ out of my way right now!"

Jack made a show of cringing away from Shepard's awesome anger while Grunt clapped and stomped his approval. "My battlemaster asserts herself at once! Truly a sight to behold!"

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose, waving him away with the other hand. "I can't take this. Children, _out_ of the combat deck, you guys don't even _belong_ on this level!" she snapped, stomping past toward the elevator. Kelly stopped her by throwing her arms around the rushing commander.

"I was so worried," she sobbed into the other redhead's shoulder.

Her anger temporarily disabled, Shepard awkwardly patted her yeoman's shoulder. "Ah, it's okay, Kelly. Really. It's so sweet of you to worry."

Kelly ran a hand over her eyes and pulled away, smiling tearily. "I'm so glad you're okay. I missed you."

"Missed you, too, gorgeous."

"The Illusive Man wishes to speak with you about the Reaper IFF –,"

"Until I get that turian back, I'm not speaking to that man," Shepard interrupted, her hands up in self-defense. "I can't handle that much stress at once. I have a turian to punish. Once I'm through with my own vindictive, selfish crisis, _then_ I can deal with saving the galaxy. Besides, I need him on my team. He's the best damn sniper I've got." She turned to Thane, who was leaning against the elevator doors and looking quite amused indeed. "Wipe that smirk off of your face. _You're_ coming with me to get him."

That wiped the smirk off indeed. He raised a ridged, inquisitive eyebrow. "You've chosen me, Shepard? Despite any feelings of envy the turian may feel toward me?"

Shepard grinned and the expression was wicked, quite wicked. "Why do you think I chose you?"

"Commander Shepard," EDI interrupted as Thane let out a dark chuckle, "The coordinates from the shuttle indicate that Officer Vakarian has gone to the planet Palaven."

"Gooood," Shepard purred with her cat-got-the-canary smile.

"Due to the amount of radiation in Palaven's atmosphere, Shepard, you may need a special suit to traverse the planet."

"Thanks, EDI. You hear that, Miranda?"

"Yes, Shepard," the operative responded easily, smiling a little—she seemed eager to have her commander up and on her feet. "Cerberus has plenty of armor to get the job done."

"Good," Shepard repeated, looking quite pleased. "I need one for me, one for Thane's sweet drell ass, and one for you, princess."

"Consider it done," Miranda affirmed, turning and walking briskly toward her office.

"You're really gonna drag him over the coals, aren't you, Shepard?" Joker called from the bridge.

"You know it. Let's see him leave again without even sending a note." And with that, she turned on her dignified heel and swept easily into the elevator.

* * *

Dr. Chakwas walked into the med bay feeling quite rested after staying awake with Shepard for so long. She'd been quite relieved when crew members had started volunteering to keep watch so she could get some sleep. She stepped out of her sleep pod only to nearly trod on something soft. Peering down, she picked up a bouquet of beautiful Earth flowers, a box of chocolates, and another bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy.

_Chakwas,_ the note attached to the pretty violet flowers read in Shepard's unmistakable lilting scrawl,

_Thanks for patching me back up—again and, with my exciting life, I'm sure not for the last time. Hope it wasn't too much of a drag, but I know you wanted that adventure so I do wish it keeps you entertained, sewing me back together again all the time. When you get this, I'd like you to come see me at your earliest convenience. _

_Thank you again. I even researched your favorite type of chocolate. I'm not good at this kind of thing, so you know I mean it. _

_Thank you, thank you, thank you._

_Love and gratitude,_

_Commander Shepard._

_

* * *

_

"Commander?"

Shepard put down her journal, looking up at Dr. Chakwas stepped hesitantly into the room. She grinned at the doctor, who sighed and took a seat on the edge of the commander's bed. "Shepard. I'm so glad to see you're all right."

"_All_ thanks to you, of course!"

"Well, Professor Mordin helped a bit," Dr. Chakwas amended with a blush. "The man is a real genius. He built the antidote for the possession _and_ the poison, all by himself! Can you believe –!"

"Wait, _possession_?" Shepard cut in, her eyes seeming black under the flickering blue of her fish tank.

Dr. Chakwas swallowed hard. She hadn't realized that Shepard didn't know she'd been momentarily possessed. Without thinking, she brought her hand up to touch the now-bandaged wounds on her arm. Shepard grabbed her wrist and pushed up the doctor's sleeve, glimpsing the gauze there.

"I did this," she murmured, her voice hoarse and barely audible.

"You weren't yourself, Shepard," Chakwas sighed, having anticipated this exact reaction from the hero she knew her commander was and always would be. "You have to know that."

Shepard closed her eyes, releasing the doctor. After a long moment, she opened them again and exhaled slowly. "I understand. But I am terribly sorry. I _will_ make it up to you. And that's final," she added as Chakwas opened her mouth to protest.

She closed it and smiled weakly. "All right. I'll accept that. Now . . . what did you need to see me about?"

At that, Shepard bit her lip, looking away and drawing her knees up to her chest. The position made her look quite fragile and it was disconcerting, to see the fearless Commander Shepard looking so uncertain. Her gaze snapped back to the doctor's and Chakwas gasped at the emotion there.

"I need to know any and everything Garrus did or said before he left," she said fervently, rolling forward onto her knees in her urgency. "Anything that can give me a clue to what he's up to."

"Oh, Shepard," Dr. Chakwas breathed, her heart aching. Shepard looked so lost in that moment. It would have broken Harbinger's heart.

Garrus must have really gotten to her for her to expose herself in this way to anybody. Chakwas looked down at her hands, thinking hard. "He didn't say much. He stayed by your side most of the time, touching your hair or running a cloth over your forehead, holding your hand when you had nightmares."

Shepard grimaced, but didn't interrupt.

"The last time I saw him," Chakwas continued, feeling horrible and clenching her hands into fists, preparing herself for the hurt she was going to get for telling Shepard, "he looked at me and said, 'Something has come up. Take care of her.' And then he paused and he looked back down at you and he whispered, 'I'm so sorry, so goddamn sorry,' and then he turned and left. Just like that."

Chakwas closed her eyes, but she couldn't block out the sound of Shepard's sharp gasp. She stayed silent for a long moment, the commander's torment almost tangible in the air around them. The doctor finally chanced opening her eyes.

Shepard was still kneeling where she'd been, her hands slack at her sides, eyes unseeing. "That's it. He's sorry. Didn't even say where he was going." And just like that, Shepard's head snapped up and she gave Chakwas a smile, easily the most disturbing sight the doctor had ever seen. "Thanks, Dr. Chakwas. I just needed to hear that. I'll see you in a bit, okay? I need to shower and get ready for dinner. I'm absolutely filthy." She got to her feet and began to usher the doctor out. Chakwas, stunned and at a complete loss for words, allowed herself to be toted from the room and stood in the hallway for a long moment afterward, uncertain what had happened and how things would turn out in response to her actions.

If she'd listened hard, she might have heard the one choked sob from behind the closed metal door. It was a sound neither of them wanted to hear and so it fell ignored, forgotten . . . but not unfelt.

* * *

"We've reached Palaven, Commander."

"Thank you, Joker. Tell Miranda and Thane . . . tell them I'm ready."

* * *

"Commander."

Shepard looked up, red hair falling away from her dull expression with the motion. "Yes, Jacob? What's up?"

He scooted into the room, Miranda filing in behind him with a crooked smile. "We got a little something for you," she chimed, "as a 'glad you're not dead' gift."

"Oh, goody. My favorite kind," Shepard affirmed, earning herself a brilliant grin from Jacob, who turned behind Miranda and hoisted a big crate over his shoulder. He let it fall onto the bed beside the commander with a small grunt.

"Sounds heavy. I'm excited," Shepard sang, putting the book she'd been reading down and crawling onto her knees. She glanced once at her eagerly awaiting companions before ripping the top of the wide, metal box off and tossing it aside.

She gasped softly.

Sleek, violet blue material glinted up at her from where it lay nestled in foam to keep it safe from damage during shipping. She traced a tentative finger down the abdominal plates of the armor, eyes glowing as she took it in.

"Here are the bottoms, Shepard," Miranda said, toeing another box forward. Shepard excitedly opened that one as well, sighing as she uncovered the matching set of armor pants.

"Miranda . . . Jacob . . ." She cleared her throat, looking away for a moment. Jacob looked at Miranda with concern, but the Cerberus operative just smiled. Shepard finally took a deep breath and turned back to them. "This is the best gift I've ever gotten. Thank you. Really."

The gratitude in her expression was nothing to the renewed strength in her eyes, as if this was the exact thing she'd needed to kick her back to her full self. She grinned and picked the torso armor up, lovingly caressing the material. She smirked at her companions. "Mama's pleased, you two. Now go run and play. I've got some clothes to try on."


	14. Bruised

Shepard sat on the edge of her bed, eyes closed, focusing on her breathing. The sheets were bunched at her side, the corners of them gripped tight in her white-knuckled hands. Her fingertips traced a curve of circular punctures in the material as her heart gave a painful squeeze.

Garrus's teeth.

He must've bitten it during their lovemaking, she surmised, sticking her fingers through a few of the small holes, instead of biting her. Respectful and uncertain. _So_ Garrus. Her hand balled into a fist, twisting the sheet corner within.

_What are you up to, Garrus?_

_

* * *

_

Shepard stepped out into the scalding heat of a Palaven summer. Sun gleamed off in the distance, setting heat waves off of the horizon and adding an eerie effect to a planet she'd once hoped to explore in a very different manner.

_Hand-in-hand with a turian. Yeah, right._

Shoving the thought aside, she turned and watched her companions climb out of the shuttle behind her. Miranda looked more uncomfortable than Shepard felt, but Thane seemed quite at home in the heat.

He smiled at her. "This aridity I quite enjoy, siha," he said happily.

Miranda shook her head, most likely rolling her eyes behind her helmet. "Sure," she agreed sarcastically, "It's just peachy keen. Can we get going? I'd like to get off this godforsaken planet as soon as possible, please."

Shepard looked down at the datapad in her hands. Their armor had all come with tracking devices—Cerberus protocol. Garrus's was no exception. She found herself for the very first time grateful that he'd been injured on Omega. The new armor he'd been forced to receive had the tracking device installed and now she could find the fucker and drag him back home by the squirrely little spurs.

"It's a few miles out. We're going to need a taxi," she muttered, zooming in on Garrus's location. The little blip beeped proudly up at her, as if happy that it could help her in this task.

_Me, too, little guy._

Miranda tapped her on the shoulder, metal against metal. "Over here, Shepard."

They trekked past many confused and haughty turians to a taxi center. Shepard managed to flag down a very put-upon looking taxi driver, who reluctantly opened his doors to them.

"Thank God we found a ride," Shepard sighed, staring him down with that steel gaze of hers through her visor. "Even for a Spectre, it's hard to find a taxi these days."

"Oh!" the taxi driver muttered, his demeanor instantly loosening. "Spirits, I apologize for my rudeness. Any Spectre is welcome in my cab—free of charge."

"Well," Shepard said, smiling bashfully. "Thank you very much. I'm honored."

"Where are we headed?"

The commander studied her datapad, turning it this way and that, stabbing the screen and zooming in to the map. "Er, an apartment building somewhere along . . . _here_." She passed the datapad to him, which he studied for a brief moment before turning the cab on and raising it into the air.

"Yeah, I know where that is. Prestigious building, that. Though I shouldn't be surprised. Has to be somebody important if a Spectre would come all the way to Palaven to meet them."

"Important, indeed," she agreed cautiously, eyes flashing dangerously. The cab thrummed smoothly over the lush Palaven surface. Shepard had expected deserts from Garrus's description of its heat, but Palaven was covered in green shrubbery and forests. The buildings that dotted the planet's surface were all sleek and metal, very modern. Turians walked along dirt roads and intricately architectural pathways alike.

Thane tapped her shoulder, raising a ridged brow at her. "What do you plan to do once we find the turian?"

Shepard peered out through the windows at the sea of green that flew past below. "We'll just have to see, now, won't we?"

"Hey, uh . . ." the cab driver interrupted, glancing nervously over his shoulder at them, "You're not gonna go _kill_ somebody, are you? I'd get myself a new asshole ripped, to borrow one of your _delightful_ sayings, human."

"No, I wasn't planning on it," she assured him with a smile. "Though if this turian misbehaves further, my generous patience may wane." The coldness in her tone could have chilled the entire planet.

The driver shook his head. "Whoever this turian is, I wish him luck. I don't like that look in your eye, human."

Their cab whizzed by a rather thick forest and a large, white skyscraper came into view beyond it. Shepard pressed her hand to the glass window, taking in the beauty of its architecture, all winding metal and huge panes that offered what were sure to be breathtaking views of the surrounding area.

"Is that it?" she asked, her gut twisting with anxiety and excitement.

"Uh-huh," the turian replied easily, glancing over to take in the building as well. "Like I said, prestigious building."

"His father _is_ quite an esteemed figure, Shepard," Miranda reminded her commander, who nodded absently.

"I always knew that, but I guess it just never really hit home until now. He's always so casual about it. He never brought up his family before." Her heart clenched when she realized how little she _actually_ knew about Garrus's life. She knew the turian himself, knew every inch of him and his sense of humor and the exact way his eyes looked when he pulled the trigger of his sniper rifle, but his past was mostly a mystery to her. It pained her to discover the holes in their relationship.

_How could I ever have imagined it would work out?_

"May I ask what turian you are looking for? I could help you find him," the driver offered, as an empty excuse to satisfy his curiosity.

Miranda glanced at Shepard. She shrugged. Couldn't hurt.

"Garrus Vakarian."

"A _Vakarian_?" the cabbie gasped at once, turning his entire body to gape at her. "Spirits, I had no idea." He spun back around and punched the gas, jerking all of them back in their seats as he took off faster for the building. "Why didn't you tell me that? I wouldn't have screwed around so much. You tell Mr. Vakarian I never meant to keep his guests waiting, all right?"

"What are you so scared of?" Shepard asked curiously. "Is he really that important?"

"Is he really – spirits, for a Spectre visiting our planet, you're a little unfamiliar with our culture," he remarked easily, pulling in to land on a pad near the building's big, wide glass entrance. "The Vakarians are a very esteemed family indeed, as your friend said. Mr. Vakarian—the father—was a huge C-Sec officer, so big it made him famous back here, too. Look, if you're going to see Garrus, you can probably just ask him yourself. I've got more rounds to make if I want to eat tonight."

"Right," Shepard realized, shaking her head. "Thank you. Really." Despite his protests, she swiped her credit chit in the pay slot on the dashboard with a smile. "You've been a great help. Have a good day."

The three companions shuffled out of the cab, which took off the second it was emptied. Shepard had to crane her neck back to see the tip top of the building. It was big and rectangular, nothing remarkable except for the pure whiteness of it all, pure stone and metal and glass.

"Ready, siha?" Thane rumbled softly beside her. He squeezed her arm supportively and though she couldn't feel it through her armor, she smiled at him.

"You bet. Let's go."

* * *

The blip on the datapad was blinking rapidly as they approached it.

"This way," Shepard whispered, gesturing her two companions forward through a long, thin hallway. It was outlandishly tall and narrow, built obviously less for humans and more for turians. The three of them couldn't comfortably walk side-by-side down the long, white length of carpet and steel. The doors were equally as white and flawless, with simple numbers scrawled in black in the very middle of them.

They reached a door that read _1566_ on it when Shepard threw an arm out to stop the other two.

"This one," she breathed, looking up at the inoffensive plate of metal that separated her from her turian. She handed the datapad to Thane without looking at him and, after taking a deep breath, raised her hand and knocked on the door. Sharp metal on metal echoed down the empty hallway and she winced at the sound.

After a few moments that felt like forever, the door was pulled swiftly open. A female turian stared out at them, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Shepard had spent some time around female turians. She was a Spectre, after all, one who had spent a long term with the Alliance and travelled to many different planets. But this one . . . this one was _beautiful_. Shepard was no turian, but she knew instantly that this female was every aspect a male wanted in a potential mate: her deep blue markings curved elegantly inward beneath her eyes, which were ice blue and bright as stars. She was built similarly to a male turian, her shoulders a bit narrower and her hips flaring out more. Her spurs were shorter and her fringe longer. She glared at Shepard, instantly setting the commander on edge.

"What could you possibly want, human?" Her voice was light, but strong like a turian's should be.

Shepard cleared her throat, setting her shoulders straight and announcing in her steadiest voice, "I'm here to see Garrus Vakarian."

The female turian's expression became even more distrustful. "And who are you?"

"I am a very angry and very volatile human with a big gun that a certain male turian pissed off. If he's going to split in the middle of the night, he's welcome to, but I'd at least like him to return the armor I paid for myself," she griped, her tone coming off just as angry as she wanted it to.

The turian reappraised her with a somewhat less skeptical expression, taking her words into account. Garrus was always the type to leave angry females behind—never a human before, but who knew what kind of people you could meet on the Citadel? He'd always been the heartbreaker. It was hard for him to find a mate with his work, they always figured, so they never pushed him about it.

But this human seemed quite peeved, quite peeved indeed. And if she'd bought him armor, then clearly their relationship went a little deeper than a one night stand. . . .

"All right. Come in," she agreed gruffly, stepping aside to allow them inside. "Garrus!" she called as they walked cautiously into the room. "You have a visitor!"

"I _told_ you –," an angry voice started to yell back, sending chills down Shepard's spine because it was just so, so familiar and it filled her with an ache.

"It's an angry, volatile human with a big gun that you apparently pissed off," the female interrupted tersely, closing the door and gesturing them toward a couch and lounge chair in the corner of the room. "This is my apartment and I don't want her splattering your brain matter all over my white furniture."

There was a long moment of silence. Shepard peeled her helmet from her head, shielded as she was by the building from the Palaven heat. Miranda and Thane followed suit, and then they heard the sound of boots on tile and there he was, _there he was_, staring at her as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Tall and lean and still as handsome as the first day she'd seen him.

"Shepard," he whispered almost inaudibly, unable to summon strength to give volume to his words. His eyes drank her in. She was alive and well, already on her feet and bossing people around, hands clasped together so politely in her lap. The instant she saw him, she got to her feet, shoulders tense, nibbling her bottom lip in a rare flash of uncertainty.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, surging forward and cupping her face as gently as a breath, unable to look anywhere but into those pansy blue eyes, "I can't believe you came here—do you know how dangerous it is for you to be –,"

"If you value your life and your manhood, Garrus, you will _not_ continue that sentence," Shepard hissed coldly, cutting him off. He fell silent immediately, wanting simultaneously so many different things: to hold her, to kiss her, to make love to her, to bite her, to punish her for risking her life by coming here _to see him_ of all things, to –

And then Shepard threw herself into his arms, her arms wound tightly around his neck. He held her back, breathing in the scent at her throat: her own special smell and the tang of sweat. He sighed, loving the smell that was just so perfectly _Shepard_.

She pulled away, blue eyes sparkling dreamily up at him. Her pink lips parted into a tentative question. "Garrus?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

"_What the fuck were you thinking?_" she snarled loudly, making him grunt and pull away in response. Her expression was livid. "Are you _sleeping with this woman?_" she demanded, pushing him away and jabbing an accusatory finger at the female turian, who had been content watching the reunion in interest up to this point.

"Oh, disgusting!" she cried at once as Garrus blanched and slapped a hand over his offended ear.

"Shepard – no, you know – there's _no one_, Shepard, no one but you!" he insisted, grabbing her hands even as she tried to pull away.

"Because I swear to God, Garrus, if you left me on what could have been my deathbed to go screw around with another female, I will make you wish you'd never even met me," she was threatening, but he quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, pulling her close so that his mouth pressed to her ear.

"No, Shepard," he murmured softly. "There is no one for me but you. Not now. Not ever." He paused for a moment to run his lips over her cheek and then back to whisper, "She is my sister, Solana."

"Oh." Shepard turned bright red, both from his gentle voice in her ear and the silliness of her accusations now that she knew the truth. She turned to Solana with a deep, stressful breath. "I am so sorry. I just . . . am a little angry, that's all. Your brother has some explaining to do."

"So it appears," Solana agreed, eyeing Garrus with curiosity. "Perhaps I should leave you two alone. Would your companions enjoy a tour of the apartment? Maybe a map of Palaven and sights to see while they are here?"

"We won't be staying long, but that would be lovely. Thank you," Shepard added, feeling overwhelming gratitude for the female turian. Miranda obediently got to her feet, but Thane lingered for just a moment, brushing his hand against Shepard's.

"Siha," he said quietly. She gave him an encouraging nod and he left with the two females.

"I can't believe you brought him with you," Garrus muttered stiffly, settling onto the couch and scowling down at the tile.

It took all of Shepard's self control not to throw herself at the turian and throttle him to death. She speared him with a deadly glare. "It was surprising how much more you can appreciate someone when they don't leave you without saying goodbye. Without leaving a goddamn note. Would it have been that hard to even tell Dr. Chakwas where you were going so that when I woke up, I wasn't worried sick about you? What the hell is going on, Garrus?"

He winced, dropping his face into his hands. Shepard paced, the anger inside giving her more energy than she could handle at the moment. "Shepard, I . . . I got a message from my sister that says . . . It's my mother, Shepard. She's dying. It's bad."

The commander stopped short, her hands clasped tightly behind her back, which was turned to the turian. She hadn't been expecting that. If anything, she'd been preparing herself for the possibility that he really had found someone else, not a familial emergency. She hadn't known his mother was sick, and once again she was troubled by how little she actually knew about him. It made her nervous.

Shepard hated feeling nervous.

She turned and took a tentative seat next to her turian. She tugged the gloves of her suit off and set them aside, flexing her fingers in the cool air of the apartment. His sister's apartment. She chanced a look up at him through her hair.

Garrus was watching her. Wary and precautious. Probably expecting her to snap any second and squeeze the life out of him with her bare hands. Beneath the guarded expression, though, was what crumbled the wall she'd built up on her journey here. In those blue ice chip eyes, underneath the caution . . . he was happy to see her. She could see it burning there in his gaze.

Shepard let out a muffled cry and fell into his arms. He held her close immediately, evidently having been waiting for the okay to touch her. As soon as he'd gotten it, his hands were everywhere, streaming gently through her hair, running down the small of her back, his mandibles fluttered against her cheek. "I'm sad to hear that, Garrus. I really am."

"I was, too, Shepard." He brushed his cheek against hers, soft, tentative, tender. "I . . . I'm sorry I ran off in the middle of the night, without saying anything."

"Yes," she agreed, pulling away. Her expression made it clear a dying mother should have been something he informed her about. "I imagine by now that you would trust me enough to tell me these things, even if it's in a hastily scrawled note by my bedside?"

Garrus clicked his talons onto his kneecap, looking away, thinking hard. "It's not that I don't trust you, Shepard. It's myself . . . it's _me_ I can't trust . . . _damn it_," he swore, getting to his feet and resuming the anxious pace that she had stopped. His talons flexed and pulled as he moved, blue eyes wild. "I know I can tell you anything. Kept telling myself that. But after I'd gotten the message, I sat by you for at least an hour. I couldn't bring myself to tell you, I just couldn't. Because I knew, deep down, that you have enough problems that you need to solve – you have to safe the entire fucking _galaxy_ – who am I to shove my own emergencies onto your shoulders? It's not something you need to grieve over and I was certain that if I told you, you would hop onto that shuttle with me and fly here to stand by my side as my mother died and I couldn't take the idea, I just couldn't."

Shepard rose to her feet, her stomach twisting into knots. She'd never seen Garrus like this before. "Garrus . . ." She grabbed at one of his hands and he stopped short, his head swinging to stare dully at her. She kissed his palm, squeezing his forearm comfortingly. "You look great in civilian clothes." It wasn't a lie. The white material of his shirt clung quite flatteringly to his lean torso, his leather pants outlining his muscular build.

His expression scrunched up as many different emotions flittered across his face: frustration, melancholy, confusion. He finally settled on amused befuddlement and shook his head. "You are impossible."

"No," she disagreed softly. "I hate to see you like this."

"How can you still be so understanding . . . after I was such an asshole?" he asked roughly, pulling her close.

She let him swing her back into the circle of his arms. "Because I love you."

"You've said that before," he murmured, resting his chin gently on top of her head, a position that she was surprised to find she enjoyed. "Do you mean it?"

Shepard snorted, burying her face into his shoulder. "Of course I fucking mean it. It's not a phrase I toss around, you know," she chided.

"I didn't think so." He gently laced a lock of hair behind her ear and peered down at her. "I love you, too, Shepard."

She cocked an amused eyebrow up at him. "I know."

"You . . . know? That's it? I've never told anyone that I love them and you know already?" he demanded, exasperated.

"I am, among other things, silly turian, extraordinarily observant." She reached into the back pocket of her armor, grunting and making a face when the seal took forever to open. Finally, it gave way with a hiss of compressed air and she brought out a small section of white cloth. She held it up to him with a grin, showing off the small, round holes. "Your handy-work, I presume?"

Garrus gently took the small section of material from her, his brow furrowing. "I don't understa –." He stopped short, his face paling. "I remember."

"You wanted to bite me. But you didn't." Shepard beamed up at him. "Because you are a gentleman."

His blue eyes flickered up to meet hers, filled with wonder. "You _are_ observant," he rasped quietly.

"I am. I'm also very devoted." She traced the scars on the side of his face and smiled when he leaned into her touch. "And I . . . I want you to bite me."

"Aaaand now is when I leave again," a voice said and both of their heads whipped over to see Solana turning on her heel and speed-walking out of the room.

"Oh, _God_," Shepard groaned, ducking her head into her hands.

Garrus let out an embarrassed laugh, rubbing her shoulders through her armor. "Ah, yeah. Not the best thing I wish for my sister to hear my lover say," he admitted, ducking his forehead tenderly against hers. "But something I have wanted to hear you say for a very long time."

Someone cleared their throat and Shepard and Garrus broke apart as Miranda and Thane filtered back into the room. Solana trailed after them, her face carefully passive. "Siha? Are you well?" Thane asked, blinking and affecting innocent curiosity. She'd known him long enough to see the concern etched in the tense lines of his body.

"Yes. Well indeed, Thane," Shepard replied, feeling Garrus grow rigid beside her. Good. The damn turian needed a little dragging through the coals. "Garrus?"

He glanced down at her, expression sour.

"I'd like to stay by your side," she murmured quietly.

He sighed. "Of course you would, Shepard. And I would . . . like you to. Solana?"

"It's fine with me, brother. It's obvious you care about her." Solana shrugged. "As long as she doesn't kill you . . . ?"

"I'm not planning on it, no. Run out on me again, though, Garrus, and you will have some _serious_ fast talking to do," she threatened through gritted teeth.

"Won't happen again."

Shepard turned to Thane and Miranda. "You two can return to the ship. Tell the rest of the crew they get some precious shore leave and head for the Citadel. You guys deserve and need it."

"Right away, Shepard," Miranda promised, pulling her helmet back onto her face. "Good luck," she murmured as she passed the Commander.

"Siha," Thane sighed in a hard voice, stepping close to her. "I worry for you."

"I know you do, buddy," Shepard said, appealing to him with a grin as Garrus stiffened again behind her. "But you won't need to. I promise. I'm a big girl and –,"

"You can take care of yourself, yes, I know well enough by now." He gave her a dry smile and then nodded. "Thank you, Solana, for the hospitality." He bowed his head at her, turned on his heel, and left with silent footsteps, closing the door just as quietly behind him.

The human and two turians all glanced around at each other, the atmosphere turning awkward.

"That drell is cute," Solana said, to break the ice. "Can I have him?"

"_Absolutely_ not," Garrus snapped, knuckling the bridge of his nose in a very human gesture of frustration.

"Fine." His sister shrugged and nodded once at Shepard. "Are you hungry? We've got some human food hanging around for occasions such as these."

"No, thank you. I've brought some with me, just in case." She indicated a small bag Miranda had left by the door. "And I have more than enough money to pay for a hotel. You won't have to –,"

"No, Shepard," Garrus growled under his breath.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Solana agreed warmly. "You will stay here, human, and there is no argument that will change my mind. Unless, of course, you change your mind about killing my brother. If you can at least wait until _after_ my mother's death . . ."

"His death won't be necessary," Shepard reassured her for the third time, smiling wryly.

"Good to know. We're leaving to go see her tomorrow, Garrus," Solana said in a softer tone. "I'm going to go get some more food for the human. I feel strange not providing for your mate while she is here, turian or not." She shrugged on a metallic-looking coat on a hanger by the door and nodded at them. "Play nice, kids."

She left with a swing of the door, leaving Garrus and Shepard once again alone.

She smirked up at him. "I like her."

"Of course you do. Come." He circled his hand around one of hers and toted her through the apartment. They trailed down a thin hallway and he led her into a small bedroom on the left.

A queen-sized bed, long enough for turian legs, was nestled into the middle of the room. A desk sat in the corner beside a tall armoire.

Shepard started unbuckling and unsealing her armor. When the parts fell away, she lowered them gently to the ground, sighing in relief when the cool air of the apartment hit her sweat-slick skin. She stepped out of the armor pants and shook her hair out of her face, loving the feel of just the white undershirt and small shorts.

She crossed over the white tile and flopped down onto the bed, inhaling his scent. It was concentrated in the sheets there, heady and earthy and warm. Garrus dropped down beside her with a dusty laugh.

"Mate, huh?" Shepard teased, rolling onto her back and staring at the smooth white ceiling. "Garrus Vakarian's mate. I have to admit, it sounds good."

"I'm very glad to hear you say that," he breathed. "I've been thinking about it for a long time. To be honest, there was never any other option." He snorted softly. "It may not go over well."

"Oh, really?" Shepard affected uncertainty. "Because if people don't like my choices, I get _really_ upset. It's something I care about deeply."

"Shut up, Shepard."

She let out a trill of beautiful laughter that struck him to the core and laced her fingers through his. "Stop worrying. I love you. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. That word scares the shit out of me."

He drew her against his chest and sighed. "Me, too. I have never felt this strongly for someone. That is partly why I left. Well, _mainly_ why I left. I don't know how to explain." He thought for a long moment, running his talons gently through the tresses of her hair, savoring her familiar, light scent. "Ah. I know. You remember how long it took for me to open up about Sidonis?"

Shepard's expression grew dark at the thought. "Of course. I will never forget. Those damn calibrations all the time, Garrus. I swear I thought you had lost your mind and the only thing you cared about were numbers."

"Er, yes. Sorry about that."

"Go on."

"I have always had trouble opening up to people. It frightens me. I have never trusted _anyone_ how I trust you, Shepard, not my sister, not my mother, _certainly_ not my father. My past is one that I try very hard to forget and as much as I love my mother and sister, they are included in that as well. It wasn't allowed to be a part of my new life, because my new life was too dangerous." Garrus took a deep breath, tracing her fingertips with a talon. "So when I got that call from my sister, I didn't know what to do. On the one hand, there was my mother, on her death bed as she has been for years. Only now it was certain.

And then there was _you_, Shepard. Beautiful and deadly and possibly dying yourself. I demanded to know that you would survive. Chakwas could give me no guarantee, but she said with your strength, it was almost certain. It killed me, Shepard, but I got onto that shuttle and I flew to fucking Palaven. Every second here has been filled with pain, because I missed you. And I knew that I loved you, but I didn't know how to say it. I don't know what I'm saying right now. I just want you to see that –,"

Shepard put a finger over his mouth, offering him a warm smile. "So you have family issues. Issues with telling people about it. Issues with opening up. I can understand that, Garrus. I may be a cold-hearted bitch, but believe it or not, I _can_ be patient."

"Really?" he asked. If his voice hadn't been completely shattered, she would have slapped him for being sarcastic.

"Yes, _really_. When I want something, I can wait for it. I want this to work. I want you to be able to tell me anything. I want to know everything about you, when you are _ready_ to tell me." Shepard snuggled closer, kissing the leathery skin of his neck. "And I want you to want that, too?"

"I do," he promised shakily. "More than anything."

"Mmn. Good." She traced the plates that were exposed above the collar of his shirt, obviously considering something.

"What's on your mind, Shepard?"

"I cried," she whispered in a pained voice. "When you were gone."

Garrus was silent for a long time. She continued to touch his collar, unable to summon the courage to do anything else. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Garrus gathered her up into his arms and lifted her so that he could meet her agonized gaze. "Shepard, I am so . . . _so_ sorry. I will never be able to make it up to you." He kissed her, hard and passionate, repentant, loving, tender. "Spirits, you're the most important thing to me. It kills me to know I hurt you."

"I didn't mean to guilt trip you," she murmured in a wavering voice. "I just wanted you to know the truth."

". . . thank you," he said after another stretch of silence. He lowered his mouth to her ear, gently grazing the tender skin there. "I love you, you know."

She laughed, the sound watery as tears threatened to brim over once more. _God damn it, Shepard!_ "Love you, too, you silly turian."

"Do you forgive me?" The shattered undertone to his voice broke her heart.

"Yes. Of course, yes." She sighed into his skin, warmed by his smell. "I feel _so_ mushy right now."

"You should. That won't stop me from telling you I love you, though. Every day."

"I like the sound of that. For the rest of our mate-. . . ship?"

Garrus let out a husky chuckle. "Yes, Shepard. For as long as you want me to."

"You'd better stick to your guns there, cowboy."

"I will swear by it."

"Good. Good." Shepard curled up into his side. His arms were comforting, his voice soft as he rumbled that he loved her into her ear. She hadn't slept at all the night before and now here, in his arms, where she belonged, exhaustion was taking over.

The famous, the strong, the indestructible Commander Shepard fell asleep in the arms of the world's most insecure turian, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Garrus Vakarian kissed it away and held her close.

If he had his way, she'd never cry again . . . and maybe some day he'd forgive himself. As for the moment, he settled with his arms around the love of his life and tumbled into sleep himself.

* * *

**Yes, indeed: this chapter is ridiculously cheesy. But kinda sweet I guess haha. Allison Shepard can't be all dry wit and deflections. RayneEthelWulf, lightan117, Siha Shap, TheDesertMan, voltagelisa, FalynnAngel, jen4306, noobcake, and Xaoir (whew that's a long list, but I've never thanked each of you by name before!) THANK YOU! Your reviews are really, _really_ nice and are, ultimately, what got me off my ass to keep updating. And for that, I thank you!**


	15. Put On Your Face and Let's Pretend

**I realize it's been a while, folks, and for that I apologize! I hope this makes up for it. I'm getting back in the swing of things. Thank you all for favorit'ing, alert'ing, and reviewing! You're the heart and soul of this story.**

* * *

The slamming of a door had Shepard bolting upright in bed, reaching for the pistol on her side table. When she found no pistol – when she found no _side table_ – she took a moment to refocus her eyes and take the dark room in as a whole.

_Oh. That's right. Garrus's room. _

"Just Solana coming home, Shepard. You're going to have a coronary jumping around like that."

Shepard scowled at the turian smirking down at her. "I didn't get this far lazing about in foreign beds. I did die once already, too."

"In that case, I guess I can't blame you for a little jumpiness," Garrus amended with a shrug.

"Garrus!" Solana's voice called sharply. "And mate!" she added as an afterthought.

Garrus sighed and shook his head as Shepard laughed. They got to their feet, stretching and rolling stiff muscles. Turian beds were _hard_ and Shepard's entire back was sore as evidence. She padded after Garrus as he made his way down the bright hallway for a kitchen adjacent to the living room.

Solana was humming gutturally to herself – a series of growls and snaps – as she pulled package after package of food from the pile of bags she'd brought home. She turned and smiled at them as they entered. "It's Shepard, right? I don't want to always go around referring to you as 'Garrus's mate.'"

"Shepard it is," she agreed amicably.

"Commander Shepard," Garrus corrected with a pointed look at his sister.

Solana cocked her head to the side, digesting that information. "You answer to this human, brother?"

"Yes."

"Hardly," Shepard grunted, making the female turian chuckle. "My ship was actually running quite smoothly until he rejoined it. Nothing but chaos has ensued since then."

Garrus snorted, but Solana cut in before he could reply, gesturing one long hand at a metal-plated suitcase on the dining table. "That was waiting on my doorstep, Commander Shepard."

"Please, you can just call me Shepard," she insisted politely, drifting toward the suitcase. Her thin fingers flipped the latches and the seals opened with a hiss of compressed air. Within lay a pile of neatly folded clothes and a bag of toiletries. On top sat a note, filled with Miranda's cursive.

_Couldn't leave you empty-handed, Commander. You know how to reach me when you're ready to come back._

"Good old Miranda," Shepard muttered, running her hands over the loose-fitting T-shirt that was at the top of the pile.

"I'd swear she has as much of a thing for you as that drell does," Garrus joked with his customary bark of laughter.

Shepard rolled her eyes, but otherwise didn't comment as he turned to help his sister unpack groceries. Shepard watched in curiosity, leaning back against one of the counters. Much as she'd travelled, she still could not identify the majority of the turian food.

Garrus glanced over his shoulder, noticing her lingering gaze. It was his turn to roll his eyes. "Come here, human."

It was a sure sign of her curiosity that she didn't bristle at his condescending tone and came forward without question.

"Solana, I can take care of these," he told his sister easily.

"Good. I need to take the first shift with Mother anyways," she replied, her voice noticeably tight.

"I will be there when you're done," he whispered.

"Thank you for the food," Shepard cut in as Solana went to grab her coat again. "You didn't need to do that. I have credits to pay for it –,"

"Don't be silly. You're family." Solana shrugged and then left. That was that. Shepard looked up at Garrus, a question just etched into her face.

He sighed and shook his head. "You really have a lot to learn about us, you know that? Let's start with food."

Shepard managed a small smile and folded her hands patiently on the edge of the counter. "Let's."

* * *

Hours later, her head swimming with not only turian food, but turian music bands, clothing styles, and, most importantly, customs, Shepard was walking dutifully by Garrus's side down yet another long, narrow hallway. He clasped his hand around hers, but didn't meet her gaze. His talons squeezed hers gently and she squeezed back.

_I'm here_.

With a deep breath, Garrus stopped at the correct door. He glanced down at the human at his side just once, for strength, and the ice blue of his eyes were so lost that it knocked the wind out of her. Gone were his confidence, his arrogance, the strut in his step that told everyone that he was a cocky bastard and he had the skill to back it up. He inhaled again and shook his head before pushing the door open.

The clinical, metallic smell of medicine and sickness hit her in a gust of air. Anxiety clutched at her heart in a painful squeeze, making her pulse skip a beat. Garrus went rigid beside her, a motion that, after all this time together, was impossible for her to miss.

"Come in," Solana called from a steel chair. Garrus shouldered through the doorframe, scanning the room uneasily before letting his eyes fall onto the hospital bed. He sucked in a hiss of breath.

"You, too, Shepard," his sister murmured softly behind him. He heard the unfamiliar rap of casual shoes on tile, albeit in the strong, familiar gate of his commander.

"Thank you," she whispered solemnly back.

"Who's here?"

Garrus looked down at the elderly turian female before him, lying nestled beneath a thin blanket, various machines and cords hooked up to her body. Blue eyes met blue, dulled and sluggish from illness despite how much they stood out against the dark clan markings on her face. She stretched a thin arm out, talons trembling, and he took her hand in his. "Mother."

She smiled, moving the muscles in her face in spite of her pain. It was _so_ Mother, hiding her agony behind the care for her children and deep-set turian customs. She gave his hand a squeeze and it broke his heart, how frail she had become. "I asked you a question, Garrus," she reminded him kindly.

"Right. Sorry, Mother." He smiled sheepishly at her and stepped aside to hook an arm around Shepard's shoulders and propel her forward.

Shepard blinked, shocked by how nervous she was, and bowed her head reverentially at the older turian as she had learned was custom. She was beautiful, majestic, and the way she held her head was undeniably elegant. Mother Vakarian was a turian who had obviously held an important place both in her community and in her family.

"This is Spectre and Commander Allison Shepard," Garrus introduced her smoothly. He trailed a hand down to close around one of hers. "My mate."

His mother's sharp eyes flickered over to Shepard and the commander stiffened anxiously, holding her breath as the turian inspected her with no attempt at subtlety. Shepard nearly fainted with relief when his mother broke out into a breathtaking smile. "And here I thought you would never find someone for yourself, Garrus," she chuckled softly, her laugh a husky, musical trill.

"Yeah, and it took her dying for me to realize she was the one," he admitted, scratching the back of his fringe with a relieved laugh – evidently Shepard hadn't been the only one nervous.

"My name is Erran," she said officiously to Shepard with a respectful tilt of her head. "Please, take a seat. My daughter was just leaving."

"Thanks for the hint, Ma," Solana grumbled with a roll of her eyes. "Why don't I just see myself out?"

"Get a nurse to bring a chair for your brother while you're at it," Erran added cheerfully. "Thank you, darling, you've always been my favorite."

Solana barked out a laugh as she passed them. "Hear that, Gare? Mother's favorite."

"Don't you have a chair to fetch?" he shot back with a smirk.

"Really," Shepard spoke up with pink cheeks, "you don't need to –,"

"Shut up," the three turians all insisted at once, in the exact same matter-of-fact tone.

"And sit down," Garrus added, putting pressure on her shoulders and practically forcing her into the straight-backed steel seat. She surrendered with a stubborn frown, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the male turian standing above her.

"Now, isn't that better?" Erran smiled warmly at the human. "You'll have to forgive us our manners. Turian pride is a rough thing to go up against."

"I've come to notice that," Shepard confessed, her hands splaying out in her lap.

"I'm sure you have," the turian agreed with another beautiful laugh. Her voice was like a melody, rolling through Shepard's mind as she spoke. "Garrus was always stubborn, even for our kind. It's rather unfortunate he's chosen you, to be honest."

"Thank you, Mother, for really high-balling her expectations," Garrus muttered indignantly. "I'll bet she's calculating the quickest way she can escape the planet as we speak."

"No, she's not," Erran murmured through a smile, eyes crinkling fondly at the commander. "She's not going anywhere. I don't know what you did to get this woman by your side, Garrus, but don't let her down. She is one to keep."

Garrus opened his mouth to speak, but his mother pushed on.

"I don't know exactly what human males find attractive, but you are easily the most beautiful human I've ever had the pleasure of seeing," Erran continued softly. "I always imagined that if Garrus ever found someone, he would end up settling for some pompous, high-bred turian that would drive me up a wall, as you humans say." She chuckled at the phrase. "I am glad to see that I was mistaken."

"Spirits, Mother," Garrus choked out in a strangled gasp.

Shepard thanked her with a laugh and pulled awkwardly at the edge of her skirt. She still wasn't quite used to civilian clothing and would have preferred marching into the room in full combat armor with her assault rifle clipped to her back. As it was, she'd smuggled in a small pistol tucked inside of her jacket, and she felt naked in the thin slip of a dress she had on.

A nurse showed up soon after with a chair for Garrus. She propped it up a good distance away from Shepard's, going on the assumption that they were not together. As she did so, she shot appreciative green eyes at Garrus before moving to Erran to check on her. Even then, she would glance up from the various IV's and machinery to the oblivious turian male across the room. She tugged at her nurse's uniform, setting her shoulders and inclining her chin, all turian strength and beauty, exuding sexual prowess.

Shepard bristled, sitting up straighter in her chair. She ran her fingers quickly through her hair, loosing it from her ponytail so that it cascaded to her shoulders in luxurious waves, and claimed Garrus's hand with her own. She could fucking play that game, too.

Erran sent Shepard a mischievous smile. "Isn't she beautiful?" she murmured specifically to the nurse, who had gone quite still. "My son's mate. I have never been prouder to welcome someone to my family. No other female could hold a candle to her flame. And a Spectre, too. So proud."

Garrus looked back and forth from his mother to his mate with confusion etched all over his face. What was with his mother? Normally she was rather conservative with family matters. And why was Shepard setting off enough pheromones to make his skin sear with desire? Possessive fire was emanating from the luscious curves of her body. He followed the sharp line of her blue gaze to the turian nurse, who was growing agitated.

Oh.

"You seem to be doing fine, Mrs. Vakarian," the nurse informed her in a clipped tone before striding back to the door. She sent Garrus one last sidelong look before tossing her head and leaving the room.

Shepard and Erran burst into laughter the second the door closed behind her. "Thanks for the back-up," the commander sniggered.

"Oh, it was no problem, my dear, no problem at all. There's nothing else to do in this godforsaken room but mess with the nurses every now and then."

Garrus twitched his mandibles uncertainly. "Was she staring at me?"

"Are you kidding?" Shepard scoffed incredulously. "She was letting out so many pheromones that _I_ could smell them. I just had to stake my claim."

"Oh." Garrus made a masculine, frustrated noise deep in his throat. "I didn't notice."

"Not at all?"

"He wouldn't have," Erran said calmly. "It's too late for him. Now he only sees you."

"Well." Shepard openly preened. "Lucky you."

He rolled his eyes as Erran laughed again. "I like her, Garrus."

"I'm beginning to tell," he agreed dryly. "I get the feeling you two are going to be a pain in my spurs."

Erran spluttered as her laughter turned into a coughing fit. Garrus was on his feet in a second, rubbing his mother's thin shoulder with one hand and reaching for the nurse call button with the other.

"Stop – stop that," she heaved, slapping at her son's hand. "It's nothing. Sit back down."

Garrus growled furiously, but returned to his chair, entire body tense with concern.

"You worry too much," she scolded, showing irritation for the first time since Shepard had met her. Her coughing fit had left her looking thinner, grayer, and her illness was now very noticeable. The vulnerability must have really stung her pride. "Allison," she began slowly, meeting her gaze, blue against blue. "May I call you Allison?"

"You may call me whatever you please," Shepard replied warmly.

"Thank you. Allison, Garrus mentioned you . . . dying?"

Shepard steeled herself, her poker face instantly falling into place. "Yes, he did," she agreed cautiously. "And it's true."

"And yet here you are." Erran's eyes twinkled curiously at her. "I'm an old turian, Allison. I don't have much time left. I'm sick. I'm frail. Can you . . . can you tell me what it's like, if it's not too painful?"

"Mother," Garrus murmured warningly.

Shepard cut him off with a firm hand on his thigh. "It's fine. I'd be glad to tell you, Erran. It . . . it was equal parts liberating and terrifying. I was spaced, you see. My ship got hit by collectors. I managed to get most of my crew off in escape pods, but my pilot refused to let the ship go. She was his baby, after all," she commented with a sad little smile. "So I went back for him. We trained together for nearly a decade in the Alliance and I wasn't letting him go down with the ship. He has a severe case of Vrolik syndrome, brittle bone disease. I had to carry him back to the escape pods. I had just gotten him into one when the collector ship cut through us with their heavy guns. We were separated. I only just had enough time to hit the launch button before I was sent flying into space. Their . . . their blast hit the oxygen seal on my suit." Shepard fell quiet for a long moment, realizing only just now that her heartbeat was pumping loudly in her ears, that she was whiteknuckling the arms of the chair on either side of her. With a deep breath, she released her grip and stuffed her hands in her lap instead. She met Erran's gaze once more. "My life didn't flash before my eyes. I didn't feel any sort of catharsis or rebirth in my final moments. I felt really blazing pissed off," she admitted, eliciting another musical laugh from the other woman, "but no flashing lights or rapid display of important memories. I felt the air leaving my lungs. Felt my throat constricting. Every muscle in my body was burning for oxygen and there was none for me to get. And then . . . whiteness. Absolute whiteness. It felt so brief, that moment, and yet apparently it lasted for two years as Cerberus rebuilt my body." She spread her hands out again and shrugged. "I can't explain it any other way. There wasn't enough time for me to have any thoughts, any conscious feelings, just a flicker of whiteness and then I was on an operating table on another ship about to be blown to bits. I didn't really . . . feel myself die."

"Well, _I_ certainly felt like dying," Garrus said roughly, his voice pained. "That was a very hard time for me, Shepard."

"I know it. And I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

Shepard glanced back up at Erran to see the old turian gazing off, eyes glossy, her mind doubtless years away, in the past, in the future.

"It seems . . . that I have nothing to fear, then," she finally whispered, looking back at them with a tired smile. "I wondered for a while if I was ever really afraid of death, or just the unknown of it all."

"I used to think about that, too," Shepard confessed. She glanced up at Garrus through her lashes, met his gaze, blue burning blue, and then looked back at Erran. "It took dying for me to realize that the only thing I had to fear was losing the people I care about. But that fear only lasts so long. Once you die, it's simply . . . oblivion."

"Oblivion." Erran closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the white pillow on her bed. "I think I can handle that. It sounds nice, after all of this. Doesn't it, Garrus?"

His hand was curled almost painfully tightly around Shepard's and he ducked his head against hers, breathing hard. "Yes," he agreed in a flat voice, the trembling of his hands the only evidence of how much it was taxing him to put on a strong face. "Yes, Mother. It really does."


	16. Oblivion

"Hey, ugly."

"What do you want? And goddamn it, stop calling me that."

"I'll stop calling you that when you stop looking like it. Where's the mate?"

"With Mother."

"Really? She likes Shepard that much, huh?"

"Adores her. _I_ felt like the third wheel."

"She's an interesting human. I like her, too. Don't lose this one."

"Not you, too. I've been getting about enough of that from Mother."

"Well, it's true. She's right for you. Strong like you."

". . . was that an actual compliment?"

"Oh, fuck you."

"And _there's_ the sister I know and love."

* * *

Shepard sighed deeply as she padded down the long hallway to the apartment, her heels hooked through her fingers. The cool tiling of the floor was a blessing against her sore bare feet and she allowed herself an exhausted smile as she remembered Gianna Parasini's gruff hatred of dresses and heels. Now more than ever, it made a lot of fucking sense.

A muffled shout from behind the apartment door had Shepard pulling out the pistol inside of her jacket, her shoes falling to the floor with a sharp clatter that made her grimace. She pressed herself against the wall beside the door, heart pounding, listening.

"No! Would you – spirits, would you just calm down and let me _speak_?" Garrus's voice commanded, flanging harshly in his irritation.

Her eyes narrowed furiously. Someone was in there with Garrus and if someone was pissing _him_ off, then she was pissed off, too. Pistol ready in one hand, she used the other to try the doorknob.

Locked.

She found herself wishing again that she was in her full armor. Kicking this door in was going to be a bitch without her combat boots.

But if anyone was worth a few broken bones, it was Garrus Vakarian.

With a quick breath to steel herself, Shepard spun around, wound up, and hit the door with the full force of her strength. It burst open, slamming hard against the wall behind it, and Shepard barely held in a whimper at the flare of pain in her foot. "Garrus!" she cried, hobbling as quickly as she could into the room, holding her pistol out.

Garrus was standing in the kitchen, staring at Shepard in shock. Before him on the table sat a hologram device, which was projecting a grainy image of a very familiar quarian, whose tense shoulders portrayed her anger even through the crappy transmission.

"What the hell?" Shepard and Garrus simultaneously demanded of one another.

"Why did you kick down the door?"

"Why the hell aren't you being attacked?"

"What?"

"_What_?"

"Allison Shepard!" Tali's voice cracked through their mutual confusion, startling them both into turning to her. The image of her was cut off at the waist, so they could clearly watch her crossing her arms in frustration. "Do not tell me that you have already forgiven this bosh'tet for running off with his tail between his legs!"

Shepard went rigid as a board. Her fingers twitched open and her pistol dropped to the floor with a loud clang.

"Ah, crap," Garrus sighed in defeat. He ran a taloned hand over his face and sent Tali's image a scathing look. "We're both in for it now thanks to you," he hissed.

"What? What did I say?" Tali demanded, her mark facing human and then turian and then back again.

"You _told her_?" Shepard hollered, her voice rising to a shrill shriek that had the other two flinching away.

"It – it slipped out!" Garrus held his hands up in defense, shuffling away from Shepard and her wrath until his back hit the counter and he realized that he was trapped. "I didn't mean to tell her!"

Tali remained quite pointedly silent, having realized her mistake.

"How is it a _mistake_?" Shepard rather resembled an earthquake as she approached him, trembling violently all over, hands balled at her sides. Her fury multiple times outweighed the pain of her broken foot and she glided smoothly forward toward the now terrified turian. A blue glow began to shine around her skin as her anger triggered her biotics.

"Keelah," Tali whispered in a sickening combination of awe and fear. "I should go!"

"No, don't leave me – ah, shit," Garrus rumbled as Tali cut off the transmission. "Uh, Shepard," he began fearfully, doing his best to disappear into the counter and wall behind him, "it was an accident. You have to believe me."

"How did you – how could you even – I don't see how . . ." Shepard seethed, unable to find words for her fury.

"I mean, you've known Tali for as long as you've known me – she should know your name, too, right? Right, Shepard?"

She let out a wordless scream and hit him with a wave of biotics. Garrus was sent flying backwards into a cupboard, crushing it behind his body. He barely had time to get back up and defend himself before Shepard came at him. He held out his arm, catching her in the stomach and stopping her before she could get to him.

"Spirits, Shepard, I said I was sorry!" he growled as he fought the instinct to counterattack.

"And _I don't give a fuck_," she snarled back viciously, grabbing him by the arm and using biotics to flip him over her shoulder. With a cry of shock and pain, he landed flat on his back. Shepard was on top of him before he could react, landing a swift, biting punch to the side of his car. He grabbed her wrists when she made to hit him again and held them out of the way as he aimed a large foot and kicked her off of him. She landed on top of the coffee table and, had it not been made of steel, it would have surely given out.

"You'd better end this now, Shepard," he threatened hoarsely, climbing to his feet. He stretched easily to his full height, and six-foot-seven had never looked more ominous.

Shepard pushed herself up with shaking arms, dark blue eyes glowing with anger. They exchanged a long, meaningful look, the air charged and sparking with electric tension, and they both knew that this went deeper than his mistake with Tali. She was finally really letting the anger out. The best he could do was defend himself against it.

She swung her legs and leapt from the table, supporting her landing with a burst of biotics to favor her injured foot. Her body whirled smoothly and she sent another wave of energy at him. He ducked to avoid it, barely dodging the jet of blue light. She gritted her teeth and went after him a full charge, leaving a streak of blue behind as her body slammed into his at full speed. They both hit the far wall, his body cushioning hers, and then dropped to the tiled floor.

Garrus struggled to push himself up onto his knees and had just enough time to dodge a biotic-charged kick she swung in his direction. He grabbed her ankle before she could pull it back and yanked her towards him. Shepard screeched as Garrus lifted her up over his body and then rolled to pin her down beneath him, mandibles pulled back over his bared teeth, growling loudly, deep in his chest. He straddled her, trapping her legs with his body, gripped the sides of her jacket in his hands. Amid her cry of protest and fury, he ripped it open, scattering buttons, and tugged it over her shoulders. Shepard struggled, her arms pinned to her sides, until she managed to free one arm and punched him in the side of his face with the fat sound of flesh on flesh. Garrus roared in fury and fell onto his side, letting Shepard wriggle away. She climbed to her feet, glowing blue as she lifted him into the air and slammed him back down, eyes flaring triumphantly at the smack of his body hitting the floor.

Garrus grabbed one of Solana's decorative vases that had been knocked to the ground and lobbed it across the room at her.

Shepard gasped and created a barrier as quickly as she could manage, but it only lessened the impact of the vase hitting her in the stomach. She dropped to her knees as the pain consumed her, coughing up blood and panting for breath.

Garrus wiped a trail of his own blue blood from his mouth with another terrifying growl. He got slowly to his feet with a grimace as his bruised muscles screamed in protest.

Shepard was pushing herself onto her feet as well. They stared at each other through narrowed eyes, bodies aching, the scent of their blood thickening the air. She limped toward him, a hand pressed to her stomach, red hair sticking to her sweaty skin. Garrus watched her suspiciously, his body a livewire, ready to react. She was standing only a foot from him when a flicker of something different blazed in her eyes, bright and vibrant and hungry.

Shepard leapt at him, wrapping her thighs around his waist. He caught her with his hands under her ass and stumbled forward until his legs hit the coffee table. He leaned Shepard back, nipping hard at the flushed skin of her neck. A low groan caught in her throat as he leaned her backwards and began pulling the remains of her jacket from her arms. She pushed all of Solana's vases and holos from the coffee table to make room for the explosive lovemaking that was going to take place. One of Garrus's hands tangled in her hair as he lowered her down. She squealed when the cool surface hit her bare skin.

"Oh, shit," she gasped, tugging desperately at the material of his pants. "Fuck, Garrus, I need you_ now_."

He growled and shoved her skirt up out of the way, his talons raking delicate skin. She parted her thighs and then he was shoving into her tight, slick heat. He groaned, the thick sound vibrating against her sensitive skin. The plates and muscles beneath her hands were taut with restraint.

Shepard rolled her head to the side to expose the exquisite length of her neck, tan skin flushed, the scent of lavender and sweat intoxicating. "Do it," she pleaded, barely coherent past the pleasure of his length buried deep within her, "God, I want you to so bad."

He needed no further encouragement. He flexed his mandibles and sank his teeth into her tender flesh, tasting her blood sharp on his tongue. The feeling of her hooking a knee behind one of his spurs and the silky strands of her hair flowing through his fingers as he cradled the back of her head barely registered – no, nothing was more important than the ecstasy firing through his nerves, boiling his blood within his veins. His entire body twitched as he rolled his hips and thrust hard back into her, eliciting a startled, rapturous squeak. Shepard clung to him to hold on for the ride because Garrus had _never_ been like this before, never so violent or aggressive or vocal or had his sharp teeth slicing into her shoulder with _such_ a delicious sting.

"Mine," he rumbled against her skin, freeing his hand from her hair. He pinned one of her wrists down with one hand and used the other to lock her thigh to his side, talons digging into her skin, drawing more blood. The instinct to fight against his hold was strong, but Shepard suppressed it to submit completely to him, never taking her gaze from his, from the wild, frantic spark that was so unfamiliar from the normal calm, collective, calculating blue of his eyes. "Mine," he repeated frantically.

That one word sent a tremor through her body and then her throat was constricting and it became difficult to breathe as the most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced wracked through her body. One of his large hands pressed down on her chest and he threw his head back to let out a triumphant roar that seemed to shake through the entire apartment. She watched in open-mouthed awe as the light glinted off of his plates and his blood-stained teeth parted into a victory shout that sent shivers down her spine like greedy, hungry fingers, set fire to her nervous system. Her back arched beneath his hand, muscles rolling in yet another climax. Her lips parted around his name and there was nothing sexier in the world than hearing his mate call for him in the throes of ecstasy, on the cusp of orgasm. He dipped his forehead to touch hers, blue eyes burning against blue, and savored her body opening to his as he, too, reached his end. His talons bit into her skin. He shoved into her one last time and then pumped every last thrust of his climax into her with a guttural groan.

Shepard blinked past the blur of sweat and pleasure up at the ceiling, trying to clear her vision. Her fingers were tangled in her hair, her palm pressed against her forehead. "Sweet baby Jesus," she panted, chest heaving. "I . . . I didn't know you had that in you, Garrus."

The turian let out a husky chuckle, suspended as he was above her. He licked lazily at the bite marks on her shoulder and neck. "Mmmnn. Let me know any time you need me to remind you."

"I might just take you up on that. Erm . . . if I can ever feel my legs again."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"Liar."

He smirked as he pushed himself up onto his feet and gently disentangled her legs from around his waist. She took his outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her onto her feet. His hands were right there to catch her when she wobbled, her equilibrium off-kilter.

"Ah, shit," she sighed as she evaluated the damage. "God, what have we done?"

Garrus swayed, scratching absently at the ends of his fringe. He shrugged and looked around. "Worth it."

"Yeah, tell that to your sister when she comes home," Shepard griped, snapping back into business mode. She quickly gathered up the scraps of her jacket and marched down the hall for Garrus's room.

Garrus padded after her with a lazy smirk on his face. "Hey, Shepard. Do you feel any different?" he called down the hall.

She stuck her face out of his room, red hair pulled messily up into a ponytail, her porcelain cheeks still a little flushed from the vicious fucking. "Uh, a little guilty that I trashed your sister's apartment. Otherwise no. Should I?"

His smirk deepened and he brushed his knuckles over the red bite marks on her shoulder. "Don't worry," he chuckled, fluttering his mandibles against her cheek, "you will."

* * *

They'd done the best they could. They really had. But there was only so much the turian and human could do in an exhausted, post-coitus stupor. And so when Solana arrived home, she showed up in the doorway with a look of utter confusion and frustration. Her blue eyes – identical to Garrus's – scanned her destroyed apartment, vases smashed, tables clear, tile scratched. Her brother and his mate were sitting on her couch applying medi-gel to each other's wounds.

Solana put a hand on her hip. "Why are the human's shoes in the hallway? Why is my door broken? Why is the cupboard smashed?"

Garrus heaved a big breath and splayed his hands out in surrender. "To be honest . . . it's a long story."

* * *

At the end of this long story, Shepard and Garrus were pleasantly shocked to discover that Solana found the entire thing wholly hilarious. She shook her head, teeth bared in a fond smile, and laughed at the surprised expressions on their faces.

"You come into my apartment, human," she repeated through a trilling laugh, "break down my door to possibly save my brother's life, attack him, have vicious intercourse with him on my specially imported coffee table, and then have the decency and nerve to tell me the truth." Her sharp cackle startled Shepard into jumping where she sat wringing her hands on the couch, which, thankfully, had remained untouched by their small battle. "You may have cost me a few thousands of credits in damages, human, but you are very quickly becoming my favorite person in Citadel Space. Hell, in the entire galaxy."

Shepard's smile was bashful as she surreptitiously slid her credit chit onto the coffee table she'd desecrated with a small _click_. "I'll, ah, replace everything. I'll even upgrade every last piece of furniture I damaged."

"_I_ damaged," Garrus corrected pointedly. He turned to his sister. "Don't blame Shepard for this."

"_I_ attacked _you_," she protested with a tug on his arm.

"I don't remember you throwing me down onto a table and –,"

"_Okay_," Solana cut him off with a flail of her long, elegant arms. "That's enough from my brother and his rich human mate! I'll take care of replacing the furniture, if you don't mind me splurging a little."

"Use all the credits you want. Have a shopping spree," Shepard allowed gratefully. "It's the least I can do."

Solana swiped up her credit chit with a good-natured roll of her eyes. "I'll try not to go crazy. I couldn't sleep right now if I tried. I might as well get this over with." She rose gracefully to her feet and headed back for the door. She wiggled the broken steel on its hinge and laughed thoughtfully to herself. "Don't destroy anything else while I'm gone, brother, new sister. I don't want to have to make another trip." And then she disappeared, closing the door gingerly behind her.

Shepard and Garrus looked at each other. "I can't believe she was so accepting about it," she admitted guiltily.

He smiled at her, seemingly unsurprised. "It was the first time I marked you. A big deal for a turian bachelor like myself; though," he added thoughtfully, "you couldn't call me that anymore."

"Good," Shepard hissed passionately. "And I won't let anyone fuckin' forget it."

Garrus arched a brow at her. "I think I kind of like that."

"You'd better."

* * *

Erran fluttered in and out of consciousness. The time was coming close now, she could tell. She was ready to embrace the void. Her only regret was not encouraging her son to flee his father's strict hold sooner. It seemed, though, that he'd found someone to help him grow now. He could settle down. He had a mate that was strong, intelligent, beautiful. And his sister was still so young, so beautiful; it was only a matter of time before she, too, found a mate. Her family was taken care of. Now she could focus on relaxing, easing the passage into oblivion.

It came so swiftly that she had no time to prepare herself for it. Pain flared in all parts of her body in a vicious spasm. Her back arched, a guttural snarl coiling in her throat. She cried out for help, anything, anyone, throwing her arms out, knocking over machinery and sensors. She thought, for one fleeting moment, that Shepard had lied to her. This wasn't oblivion, this was _hell_, the searing pain, burning all throughout her body.

And then the whiteness came and her last thought was that she never should have doubted the human, the savior of the galaxy, and she wished her family well before her soul was carried on to the great void.


	17. You Got The Love

"I must've come through here when I broke out, but I don't remember it. This is a bad place."

With that, Shepard could certainly agree. The dark hallways and sinking walls sent shivers up her spine. As if she didn't already have an ache in her stomach, gnawing away at her nerves.

"Where to next?" she asked firmly, jerking Jack out of her reverie.

Jack smiled thinly. "In a rush, Shepard?" She shook her head and continued before she could reply. "No, you're right. Let's just plant this thing and get out of here. There's no reason anyone should linger in this place."

Jack slinked off ahead, clearly very agitated with the jerking of her shoulders with each step, and Shepard followed close behind. It was just the two of them, a quick stealth mission. They didn't need anyone else to help them. She would've taken Garrus along without question, but that was before. . . .

She thought of the funeral, short, but nice. Light had streamed in from the large windows of the gathering hall. The body, laid out in all of her favorite clothing, beautiful as she had ever been. Garrus's face . . . carefully painted in a stony expression, teetering on the edge of falling apart. She'd never seen him so vulnerable, so goddamn sad. It broke her heart.

"Shepard," Jack hissed, cutting through her thoughts. "I hear voices."

Indeed, if she listened, Shepard too could hear the rumble of a krogan, the screech of vorcha.

"Blood pack," they identified in unison, Shepard exhausted, Jack excited. At the end of a hall was a door that slid open to a large storage room. Vorcha with flamethrowers were scattered around the bottom floor, and three krogan lined the upper terrace.

The biggest krogan, obviously the one in charge, consulted someone through an earpiece. "Hey Aresh, it's Kureck. The intruders are here. You want them dead, let's talk payment. You promised us lots of salvage, but this place is a wreck."

"I could've told them that," Jack breathed through gritted teeth, skin already aglow in her excitement.

"Fine," the krogan grunted. "I'll put 'em down. Then I'm comin' in there and we're gonna talk salvage."

Shepard pulled the assault rifle from her back and held it ready at her side. "You're in my way," she snapped at the krogan. "I don't have time for this shit."

Kureck merely snorted in amusement. "Kill them."

Jack and Shepard ducked for cover behind a nearby storage unit. Shepard sent a shockwave of biotic power across the room, knocking out two vorcha heavies. She let Jack's warp eat away at Kureck's armor – it was stronger than her own.

"Focus on the big guy!" she ordered. "I'll take care of the rest."

Jack obeyed without question, keeping her fire to the furious krogan.

Shepard used the incineration technique Mordin had recently showed her to set fire to a nearby krogan. He tumbled to his knees, screaming and smacking himself to put out the flames. Her assault rifle made quick work of the last vorcha, and then only Kureck and another krogan remained. Shepard jerked back behind cover to reload.

"Charging krogan!" Jack warned her from across the room.

Shepard glanced from behind her cover and cursed, sidestepping to avoid the krogan headed her way. She placed her heavy pistol to the back of his head and pulled the trigger three times, permanently silencing him.

Jack gave a cry of pain and used her last burst of energy to throw Kureck away from her. Shepard sprinted over and slid between the two, simultaneously shielding Jack and loading an entire clip into Kureck. He stumbled backward, absorbing bullets, and when Shepard had to pop out the thermal clip, she biotically charged at the krogan. The contact of her body cracked bones, and he collapsed to the floor—dead.

Jack had climbed to her feet and extended a hand to help the Commander to hers. "Thanks for the cover there, Shepard. You came just in time."

"That's what I do," she sighed through a grim smile.

"The only room left is my old room. This Aresh must be in there. I'd like to plant the bomb there anyways. Call me sentimental."

They applied medi-gel as they moved down the last hallway toward Jack's room. Shepard gestured for Jack to take the lead and she moved silently through the darkness, knowing each step already. They moved cautiously through the last door into her room, scanning it and finding no one.

"Come out," Shepard barked. "We know you're here."

There was a shuffling sound, and then a balding man crawled out from behind the desk in the corner.

"Who are you?" Jack demanded, her pistol aimed straight at his head.

"My name is Aresh, and you're breaking into my home . . . Subject Zero."

"My name is Jack!" she hissed. "How do you know me?"

"We all know your face, Subject Zero. The horrors inflicted on us . . . all for your safety. You were the question, and I'm still looking for the answer."

_Story of my life_, Shepard thought for the briefest of moments. "Why did you come back here?" she asked to cover her lapse.

"I hired these mercs almost a solar year ago. We're rebuilding this place, piece by piece. I'm gonna find out what they knew, how to unlock biotic power in humans. I'm restarting the Teltin facility. It will be . . . beautiful."

"I want a hole in the ground," Jack growled, seething. "What we have is a disagreement, and I'm gonna end it right now."

"Oh, we're blowing this place up," Shepard reassured her. "But what do we do with him?"

"That's easy." Jack glowed bright blue and sent Aresh to his knees with a wave of biotic power.

"Just – just leave me here. This is where I belong," he choked out.

"This man was going to torture more children, more children like me, Shepard. . . ." Jack's hands balled into fists, one still wrapped around her pistol, aimed at Aresh's head.

Shepard knew what she was supposed to do. This was the part where she would shout, 'Don't do it, Jack. Stand down.' She would tell Jack that she would regret it later. That this man was crazy, and was going to die anyways in the explosion.

But, looking into the man's eyes, knowing what he was trying to do. . . . It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that this monster who wished to torture more kids got to slither around, alive, while Erran was in ashes somewhere, her son abandoned and lost. It wasn't fucking fair that Aresh was still breathing and Garrus's mother was taken from the galaxy in the blink of an eye.

"Shepard?" Jack demanded.

"Do it," Shepard whispered, just a croak on a breath at first.

"What?"

"Do it," she repeated, louder. "Kill him."

"Really." Jack's mouth spread into a wide grin. "It must be my lucky day." Having rethought her methods of killing him, Jack dropped her pistol, lifted the man into the air with her biotics, and twisted his neck in one smooth jerk. The heavy thud of his body hitting the ground made her smile fade. "Thanks for that, Shepard. Now let's do this and get the hell out of here. For good."

* * *

They watched the explosion engulf the side of the planet as they streamed away in the shuttle. The orange and red of the flames reflected in Jack's dark eyes before she closed them and leaned back against her seat.

"Thank you," she said simply.

Shepard nodded and looked down at her hands, curled into fists.

"Something on _your_ mind, Commander?" Jack asked.

Shepard glanced upward to see one dark eye peeled open to study her. "I thought you weren't one for small talk," she replied shortly.

"You helped me blow up my entire childhood. I find I'm feeling a little affectionate toward you."

"Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine."

"Yeah, you say that," Jack laughed. "But you let me snap that guy's neck like a twig. That's very un-Shepard of you. You normally would've at least given me some shit for it, talked about my broken psyche or something like that."

"I shouldn't have let you do that. I really shouldn't have."

"So why did you?"

Shepard heaved a tired sigh. "It wasn't fair that he got to live, and Garrus. . . ."

"Garrus's mom croaked," Jack finished for her.

Shepard speared her with a venomous look.

"Don't kill me for word choice, Shepard. I'm crude, but honest."

She eventually nodded in agreement. "You're right." Then she sighed. "I shouldn't have left Garrus behind for this."

"It would've been a mistake taking him on this mission so soon."

"I know that," she snapped. "But I should still be there for him, whatever he needs, I just . . . I felt like I'd put off my crew, our mission, for so long, and that's not right. You should've heard the Illusive Man try to rip me a new one when I got back."

"Fuck the Illusive Man," Jack snarled. "And your crew is apeshit for you, Shepard. They all understood what was going on in your head."

"I know," Shepard repeated, quieter this time. "I should've stayed."

"Well, I don't know." Jack shrugged. "I used to roll with a turian, a long time ago. When their heads are fucked up, they like to be alone."

"Not the mated ones," Shepard grumbled under her breath.

Jack's eyes flared in surprise. "You mean. . . ."

Shepard peeled away the cloth of her skin weave to show the marks on her neck.

"Oh, man. I had no idea." Jack chuckled darkly. "You'd better not show those to that drell. It would mess his shit up."

"Thanks for the help, Jack. Glad we talked."

"Oh, don't shut down like that, Shepard. It was a short mission. You'll be back to your turian before you know it."

Shepard's lips quirked up into a tentative smile. "Thanks, Jack. For the comfort."

"It was not comfort," Jack warned her through a glare. "Just talk amongst comrades in arms. That's all."

"I won't tell a soul."

"Good. I don't want to have to snap your neck too, Shepard. I kinda like you."

"It's loving statements like that that get me through the cold nights, Jack."

* * *

When they got back to the Normandy, Jack sailed past Shepard as if their conversation earlier hadn't even happened. Typical Jack. Shepard climbed the stairs with weary, anxious steps. Joker eyed her when she reached the combat deck.

"You shouldn't be out running around with guns if your head's not screwed on right yet, Shepard," he informed her casually.

She snorted half-heartedly. "My head's never been screwed on right."

"I guess it hasn't." He frowned. "You sure you're all right?"

"Just got to get back to Garrus."

Joker nodded knowingly. "How is he doing?"

"How any of us would be doing, I guess."

"Where are we headed next?"

"The Citadel. The Illusive Man sent me a dossier for a new crew member, when he was finally done reaming me up and down for disappearing to Palaven."

Joker chuckled. "Don't let it get to you, Shepard. That guy needs some stress in his life. He is way too guiltless to be healthy."

"You can say that again."

Joker watched her fidget and glance around and sighed. "Go, get back to your turian. I'll just get back to the deep and colorful conversations I get to have with EDI."

"Thanks, Jeff." She pecked his cheek and booked it to the elevator.

* * *

Garrus pressed his forehead against the steamy tiles of the shower. Being alone wasn't easy yet. When Sidonis had his men slaughtered, honest men, loyal men, men that only wanted good for the galaxy, Garrus had retreated into himself for safety. He hadn't had Shepard anymore. He had only himself for comfort, and only himself to blame.

Now was different. His mother's death had left a great gaping hole within him, and only around Shepard did that ache lessen. Being alone hurt.

The first hour or so he'd spent lying down in her bed, his eyes closed, inhaling her scent. It was especially strong amongst the sheets and pillows, where she slept every night, where they'd made love for the very first time. The tickle of her scent comforted him. It was as if she were still lying beside him, murmuring that everything was all right, as she had for two whole days after their return from Palaven.

It had been him to insist she continue with her captainly duties. He couldn't bear the fact that he was the one anchoring her to this room, disabling her, leaving her crew downstairs, whispering about her, wondering if she'd ever come back down. He'd finally convinced her to forget about him for a little bit.

But it left him here, in the shattering wake of her absence, alone with his thoughts. He turned the water up until it was scalding and basked in the feel of it beating against his skin, leaving him raw, cleansing him. The steam curled around his body, caressed every part of him until it was all he could feel. He wanted Shepard back – wanted her here, where he could touch her, claim her.

The shower door slid open and he went rigid, tensed for combat. Through the steam he could make out Shepard's slender shape, a hand cocked on her hip. Her armor was abandoned behind her, so she was left in only a tank top and shorts. She smirked at him, shivering a little when the steam rolled warm and comforting over her body.

"You're going to cost the Illusive Man a fortune in his next utilities bill."

Garrus snorted. "You coming or going, Shepard? You're letting all the warmth out."

"It's not exactly the biggest shower," she griped, pulling her shirt up over her head. "Make some room."

He grabbed her hips and yanked her against his chest, ignoring her protests that she wasn't finished undressing yet. "There's plenty room here, Shepard."

"Now look what you've done," she scolded him, but she was smiling. "Help me get out of these."

With easy precision, Garrus sliced his talons through her shorts and underwear; they fell away with a wet splat against the tile. He lifted Shepard up into his arms, swallowing her surprised gasp in a kiss. His mouth released hers and hunted down her jaw toward her throat.

Shepard found herself suddenly very lightheaded. The hot water, the steam, and his touch were making it very hard to concentrate. "Are you sure?" she breathed, shuddering when his teeth grazed her neck.

"Oh, yes," he replied easily. "Oh, yes."

"Garrus, I don't want to rush –,"

"This is good, Shepard." He pulled back so that she could meet his gaze. The ice of his eyes had melted into electric blue that shocked her from within. "I've been doing some thinking, and – stop fucking fidgeting. I'm trying to explain something to you and you're making it very hard to think."

Shepard whined. "Hard for _you_ to think?" she grumbled, silencing when he glared.

"This is part of the grieving process," he continued. "I'm ready for this. And yes, I'm sure," he cut her off when she opened her mouth to speak again. "When the massive erection came, I think I got the message."

"Mmn – oh yeah," she agreed breathily, locking her legs around his waist. Her fingers found the leathery skin of his neck and stroked light circles there. The low hum in his throat made a chill run up her spine.

"I just . . ." He sighed into the crook of her throat. "Don't want to think for a while."

Shepard closed her eyes and rolled her head to the side, exposing herself for him. He let out a tender groan and tightened his grip on her waist. She cried out when he slid into her, her nails scrabbling against the tile behind her. His teeth sank into the flesh of her shoulder, and he was home, with her, within her, where he belonged.

Garrus tasted her, felt her tight around him, heard her soft panting, and he didn't have to think for a while.


End file.
